


POLAROIDS

by frnklyiero



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Secret Crush, Tags Contain Spoilers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, peterick is not the endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 92,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnklyiero/pseuds/frnklyiero
Summary: "That's a really neat camera you got there. It does the little printing thingy --""Polaroid. It's actually called a polaroid camera."Pete wants to know why Patrick is always carrying an old camera around when their families meet up while Patrick does his best to keep his distance from Pete.A Peterick AU fanfiction.





	1. 0.0

**Author's Note:**

> this work was imported from my wattpad. no part of this story may be reproduced without permission from me.
> 
> also, you may have noticed the absence of gifs, which i have always used in my fics except for lumos. this is because i chose not to import them along with the fics.
> 
> there have been no changes to the fic prior to posting. everything you read here are as it was the last time it was seen on wattpad.
> 
> the story is based on halsey's music video for [colors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGulAZnnTKA) with some changes to fit the plot i had.

The boy stood, hidden in the shadows, as he watched the two families at the table. Both sides are conversing with each other in merry tones and laughter. His chest constricted at the sight of them, especially at the one with most captivating smile of all. He remembered the way that little expression of his crush would set off a million sparks to fly in his stomach, creating a fluttery effect in his heart's pulsations.

He drew a breath, stepping back from the view - not that they had seen him; they were too busy talking to have noticed. His heart was pounding hard from the anxiety he had been holding for the whole day. His hands tightened on a piece of his past he had been holding. It was practically a relic, old enough to be called vintage. Not that a label could change the fact that this object was his most prized possession.

He raised the object to his right eye, shutting the left one as he focused on the subject. Pressing the button, a snap went off, followed by the sound of a Polaroid photograph being developed. He froze, biting his lip as he checked whether any of the families were notified of his presence.

They were carrying on with their conversations, not giving a single indication that they had heard him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he took the photograph, shook it a bit and had a look at it. His heart fluttered at how perfect it turned out - it captured his crush in mid-laugh. A smile played on his lips, an expression that reflected the warmth he felt inside his chest before it was replaced with a cold sensation that caused the smile to evaporate like water.

The cold turned into a dull ache, reminding him of how his feelings for a certain someone present at the table tonight could never be his. How that certain someone, while desired would forever remain as distant and unreachable as the stars he had seen the other night.

The boy slipped away up the stairs to his room where he felt the ever-tightening knot in his chest threatened to suffocate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning to those of you who have read this fic before and are rereading this again (for whatever reason) please do not spoil the story.
> 
> Everyone deserves the opportunity to enjoy the story without spoilers.
> 
> If you do not heed this warning, I will have to delete your comment.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Also, please do not stay up to finish this fic. You need your rest more than you need to finish this story.


	2. playlist

[daddy issues by the neighborhood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lMlsPQJs6U)

[fools by troye sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfD96yRT8cs)

[this love by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaXXIEl8iac)

[fix you by coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM)

[brother by gerard way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAuVJIOsQPo)

[stone by alessia cara ft. sebastian kole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1P0VSHthVw)

[oceans by seafret](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpdXBjwXbMg)

[wanna be with you by earth, wind and fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIIcL7P1GLw)

[it ends tonight by the all-american rejects](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfdAGkjHGac)


	3. 0.1

The fabric slid smoothly to his touch under his fingers as he tugged on it, causing the necktie he was wearing to come undone.

Patrick had been repeating the whole process for about three times, wanting to pass a little more time in his room before he had to leave it for school. While he knew that his idle hands had better things to do at this moment such as picking up his books and backpack, he really wanted to stay at home curled under his covers.

There was a soft knock on the door, jarring him out of his reverie. As he turned to see who it was, Joe the butler's head peeked round the door, regarding Patrick. "Are you ready, Sir?"

Patrick had always found it weird that his butler would call him Sir, even though he was much younger than the man. He looked down at his uniform, at the crisp white shirt and dark blue pants then at his undone necktie. "Um, no. Give me a moment."

Joe inclined his head and left Patrick to his own device. Exhaling, the strawberry blond redid his necktie once again for the fourth time before setting towards his desk where his books and backpack sat waiting for him. Picking them up, he glanced at the old Polaroid staring at him next to his desk lamp.

The sight of the camera stirred fond memories in Patrick's head long enough for him to feel encouraged to attend school. With a slight smile, he left his room.

*

Patrick could drive on his own, having turned sixteen last spring but Joe insisted on driving him to school. It didn't bother him in any bit that he was driven to school when all the other students did so on their own but he did wish that Joe hadn't insisted on sending him to school on the first day of his sophomore year.

Patrick stared out at the window, watching as streets and cars zip by. Music filled in the silence in the atmosphere but it wasn't like he was listening to it. After what felt like a million hours when they were stuck in traffic did he ask Joe, "Do you think Mom's going to admit it this year?"

Joe's hands tightened on the steering wheel but he kept his eyes on the road. "I don't know, Patrick." He hummed. As he knew that Patrick could get uncomfortable when he was speaking to the boy the way a proper butler should, sometimes he would call Patrick by his first name. "Maybe? Mrs Stump might be thinking of a way to tell you, y'know, since --"

"I know I'll be getting a stepfather soon." Patrick sighed. "She's been with her business associate ever since Dad passed away six years ago. Even if she tells me that she's been seeing this man for a year, I don't think that's the entire truth. They've acted like they've been at it for longer." He realized how petulant his voice sounded but not that he cared.

Nobody could replace his father and deep inside he did dislike the fact that his mother had moved on from his father.

Patrick's father, David, had been a great man, raising his son with all the love he could give him and always being there for him while his mother, Patricia, worked day and night managing the hotel she had inherited from Patrick's grandfather. Not a day went by did Patrick stop thinking about the what-ifs that could've happened when he lost his father to cancer.

"Sir? Patrick?" Joe's voice broke into Patrick's reverie, sounding concerned. Drawing himself away from the window, Patrick realized that they had arrived at the compound of the Youngblood Prep School, the high school that he attended. Past the window he could see students milling about on campus, a mixture of expression ranging from excitement to annoyance.

Making a noise of acknowledgment, he scooped up his books and backpack from the seat beside him and got out of the car, not hearing Joe saying, "Have fun at school, kiddo."

The large two-story edifice, consisting of a few blocks, didn't seem as intimidating as it did the time when Patrick was a freshman although the sight of few large groups of students clustering together as they conversed with one another did make him a little nervous. He didn't have many friends at school because of how he generally avoided most people due to the fact that some of them wanted to associate themselves with certain students due to their background. But the friends he  _did_  have was the bookish sci-fi geek Mikey Way and the lighthearted comic relief Jon Walker.

As he made his way down the crowded hallway to the auditorium where everyone was supposed to be for the welcoming program, he searched amongst the sea of faces for his friends. He hadn't seen them for a week since summer ended and he did miss their company, despite their last hang out did consist of a roller coaster and Patrick throwing up on somebody's shoes - it was an unpleasant and embarrassing situation that he preferred not to revisit.

Faintly above the din of intermingling conversations of passing students, Patrick heard someone call his name from behind and turned around. He had been expecting to see either Mikey or Jon. Instead, he found someone else and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Pete Wentz.

The reasons for Patrick wanting to do so didn't relate to the fact that Pete was easily one of the most mischievous students in senior year or the fact that he could act like a complete douche but the fact that his mother was seeing Pete's father that made him feel all uncomfortable around Pete.

Pete, on the other hand, didn't appear to bear any signs of visible awkwardness. He regarded Patrick mildly as he approached, tucking his hands in his pocket casually. Up close, Patrick could make out the dark lines drawn around Pete's eyes. It would've given him a sort of gloomy emo look had it not been for the slight upward curves of his lips.

Patrick felt himself stiffen as he inclined his head in greeting, fingers gripping on his books and binders he needed for his lessons. "Um, hey Pete." He hummed, avoiding the boy's eyes. "What's up?"

Pete shrugged, pushing away the straight choppy strands away from his forehead. "Dad figured that we should probably get to know each other better." He said, raising his gaze to meet Patrick's. "I'm guessing he's planning to propose to your mother by this year so he wants the transition to be a little easier for all of us."

"Really?" Patrick was unconvinced, shifting on his feet. He could remember the time when Patricia had brought Lewis home to introduce him to Patrick. She was anxious that Patrick would accept the fact that she was seeing another man and he recalled wondering what she saw in Lewis.

The same distant curiosity ran in his mind as he looked at Pete now; he knew his mother was in love with Lewis and the feelings were reciprocated so marriage was a possibility. He wondered how Pete would treat him as a brother when he was such a handful at school. Straightening himself, Patrick smoothed his necktie and leveled his bright blue eyes with Pete's light brown ones.

"That's very thoughtful of Lewis but I have ... things to attend to back home." Patrick replied as politely as he could. "Maybe another time?"

This wasn't the first time he had turned down the suggestion of hanging out with his stepsiblings-to-be. It wasn't that he had a dislike for the Wentz family ever since Patricia informed him of her relationship with Lewis, it was just that he wanted to keep them at arm's length.

Needless to say, the Wentz family hadn't picked up on that, making it a tedious job for him to keep turning them down and earn suppressed looks of disappointment in their features.

Pete raised an eyebrow at his response but Patrick thought he caught a glint of disappointment in the boy's unruffled expression. "Oh. Well, that's totally alright." He cleared his throat. "So, I'll see you around?"

Patrick was tempted to reply  _It's not like I have a choice, do I?_  but held back at the last moment. Giving a tense nod, he watched as Pete pass by him to enter the auditorium. Once he was certain that the Wentz boy was gone, he let out a sigh and shook his head.

There was a hand on his shoulder; Patrick swiveled around to find his best friend, Mikey regarding him with a deeply relieved expression. "I thought I'd never find you and I'd have to sit with a bunch of random people I don't know."

Patrick's lips quirked upwards at the side as he and Mikey enveloped each other into a hug. "Missed you too, Mikey. Where's Jon?" As he was shorter than his best friend, he was less able to spot Jon's head from where he was. Mikey shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose as he peered around.

"Not sure, though. Wanna go inside and wait for him?" Mikey suggested thoughtfully, folding his lips into a white line. "He'll find us. He always does."

Patrick was about to answer when a new voice exclaimed loudly, "My hombres! Where you guys at?" Suddenly, both Patrick and Mikey were thrown slightly off balance when a body threw itself on them into a hug. "I missed you buggers!"

Mikey laughed, pushing Jon off him as he readjusted his necktie. "Yes, hello to you too, Jon."

Jon made a face at Patrick then at Mikey. "Why are we even here anyway? Ugh, seriously I haven't even been here for ten minutes and this hellhole's starting to get to me." He complained then eyed everyone who was filing into the auditorium. He jabbed a thumb at the entrance. "So, who's ready to age about five thousand years in fifteen minutes, because I'm not." He said with mock-excitment.

Mikey gave Jon an affectionate cuff upside as the three entered the auditorium for the welcoming program.

*

"Looks like you'll have to deal with English Lit first thing in the morning." Jon teased as he, Patrick and Mikey compared schedules. The bespectacled blond groaned and elbowed Jon indignantly.

"Ugh, boringness doesn't sit well with me first thing in the morning." Mikey complained, glaring at his schedule balefully. Glancing up at Jon and Patrick, he sighed and hung his head. "I think I might have to bring coffee to class."

Jon slung his arm around Mikey as the three made their way down the hallway to their respective lockers. "Aww, it's alright Mikey. After English Lit, you'll be having Physics with me!" He said cheerfully as the blond groaned once again.

Excusing himself from the two, Patrick went to his locker to grab the books and files he needed for the next two periods. His locker was bare as it always had been, devoid of any decoration whatsoever save for a photograph of his family, father included, on the door. While his mother thought it had been a good idea to add a personal touch to his locker the sight of that picture was often avoided by Patrick so not to stir any pangs of longing.

However he didn't avoid it now. Patrick was staring at it, fingers hovering over his parents and him; they looked so happy. The space below his ribcage began to ache and Patrick wondered if this picture was some travesty tacked on to mock the fact that his father was dead and his mother was seeing another man with marriage not far off. Biting his lip, he tore his gaze away from the photograph, gathering his things in a hurry before closing the locker as if there were demons in it.

And in a way, the reminder of his past were his demons.


	4. 0.2

"So, how was school today?" Patricia asked with a smile, one Patrick suspected was worn for his sake. A curiously upbeat song was playing on the radio, the tempo masking the depressing lyrics that the person was singing. The whole interior smelled of the Ocean Breeze car freshener scent that his mother loved; it was stifling to the point that Patrick wished he could open the windows to get it out.

Instead, he stayed put in his place, staring fixedly ahead on the road. "Nothing much." He replied nonchalantly. "Same old people, same old teachers, same old school. If theres anything new about the place you want to know, they renovated the nurse's room but I really think it just encourages more students to fake a sickness and skip class in there now that there's more space."

He couldn't help but say all of those in a sarcastic tone. He really didn't see the point of sugarcoating the description of his school.

His mother, on the other hand, wasn't at all pleased with his response. To show her disapproval, she sighed in a way that made Patrick feel guilty and shook her head. "So, did you talk to any of the Wentz siblings?" She asked, and immediately Patrick felt himself tense.

"Well, Andrew graduated last year so I definitely didn't see him around. Didn't see Hilary as well but Pete talked to me." He replied, uninflected.

A smile formed on Patricia's features. "Oh? What did he say?" She asked.

This was the part that Patrick dreaded the most. He really didn't want to talk about how Pete invited him to hang out with him. He knew that if he waved his mother off or ignored her, she'd only ask him later. That left lying - something Patrick hated to do. Pushing the pang of guilt down, he managed, "Uh, we just said hi."

She was silent in the way one would keep quiet in hopes that the other person would further explain themselves.

"That's all." He mumbled and then stared fixedly out the window. The car had pulled to a stop at a traffic junction when he saw Pete at the sidewalk, his back facing Patrick, bobbing his head to music on his headphones as he waited for the pedestrian light.

Detachedly, Patrick wondered what kind of music Pete was listening to but he knew he would never bring himself to ask the boy; he knew that if he did, it meant that having a conversation and then it would probably lead to familiarity that he wanted to avoid. With soft exhale, he sat back against his seat.

Unfortunately, that meant Patricia could see Pete now that Patrick wasn't blocking her.

"Oh, there's Pete." She grinned and beeped the car horn.

"Mom!" Patrick said, shocked.

Pete started from the noise, looking around when Patricia rolled the Patrick's window open. The strawberry blond boy in the car groaned and covered his face as his mother called out a question as to where Pete was heading to.

The dark haired boy was walking over with a smile. "I was walking to the record store two blocks down." He answered.

"In that case, I'd be happy to drive you there." Patricia offered and when Pete refused, she said, "It's totally alright."

Knowing that Patricia would persist, Pete shrugged and got into the car.

*

"Mom, I'm sure he wants to look for whatever he's looking for alone." Patrick argued as he and his mother waited in the car after Pete got out of the car to the record store.

Patricia had insisted that they wait for him so she could send Pete home on the way back. Whatever the case, they had been waiting for about a minute until Patricia was practically asking her son to join Pete.

"Don't be such a snob, Patrick."

"I'm not a snob." Patrick proteted and earned a sharp glare from his mother.

"Then what's wrong with accompanying Pete in the store?" She reasoned, raising an eyebrow. "I'm certain he won't mind. Besides, the two of you need to - how do you say? - become buddies."

Patrick wanted to cringe but then he really didn't want to piss his mother further so with a sigh, he got out of the car and crossed the street to the record store. He pushed the door open, setting off the tinkling sound.

Inside the store, there were rows of shelves with a wide variety of music titles on display. The person at the counter, a boy about Patrick's age with wild, curling hair whom Patrick recognized was from his school glanced up briefly.

Patrick turned his attention to the customers, searching by sight for Pete when the dark-haired boy's head popped into view. Exhaling, Patrick walked over to where he was and found Pete smiling triumphantly at an album in his hand.

"Ray, you didn't tell me that -- Oh!" Pete started when he realized that he was talking to the strawberry blond and not a person named Ray. He smiled quickly and glanced back at the album but not before Patrick caught the slight tint of red in his cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"What's that?" Patrick asked, tilting his head to get a better view of the album that Pete was holding.

"Just something I was looking for." Pete replied airily, then paused. "It's Fall Down Guy. Ever heard of them?"

Patrick shook his head. He didn't listen to a lot of bands, only stuff on the radio although he had been put off listening to some of the top hits played that bore lyrics pertaining to the topics of sex, alcohol and parties. "Are they any good?"

Pete stared at him, considering his reply. "Well, maybe we could hang out some time to listen to them."

Patrick's stomach tightened at yet another of Pete's invitation to spend time with him. He wondered if Pete ever felt awkward around Patrick because of their parents but if so, Pete was doing a great job at hiding it. Patrick shrugged nonchalantly. "We'll see."

Apparently, Pete took Patrick's tentative reply as him agreeing to his offer because his features lit up. "Awesome. How does this Friday after school sound? I could pick you up and we could go to my place." He offered.

 

Patrick could only give a tight-lipped smile in response.

"Awesome." Pete patted his shoulder and then asked, "Anything you wanna get?"

"No thank you."

"Okay. Cool." With that, Pete headed to the counter to pay when Patrick caught the sight of something at the vinyl shelf. Making his way there, he reached and pulled one of those albums out and read the cover.

The Beatles.

David used to love listening to this band and used to tell Patrick about how great their music were and how popular they were back then. Nostalgic memories filled the hollow space in his chest where his father belonged and Patrick couldn't help but smile a little looking at familiar names of the songs on the back.

He patted his pocket, considering whether or not he should buy it for sentimental purposes. He had enough money to buy the vinyl and there was also a record player back home.

"You like The Beatles?" Before he could make his mind, Pete's voice broke into Patrick's thoughts, bearing traces of curiosity beneath the tone of amusement. He peered over Patrick's shoulder, close enough to cause the strawberry to inch away slightly from mild discomfort.

"Oh, um, it was to be one of my father's favorites." Patrick answered, glancing back at the album. "He used to play it a lot when I was little."

As Patrick said that, a strangely sad and distant look flashed behind Pete's eyes. He couldn't decipher what that meant.

"I'm sure he's an awesome guy." The dark-haired boy said gently, as if he were careful not to rouse any strong emotions from the younger of the two. "At least his music taste's better than my dad's." Pete joked but Patrick didn't laugh.

Instead, he smiled for his sake.

*

Patrick was listening to The Beatles vinyl he had bought earlier that day after dinner in his room while doing his homework when Joe came in to check on him.

It was something his butler did whenever the clock pointed nine o'clock sharp at night, a habit left over from whenever Patricia often left for business trips when Patrick was younger.

"Do you need any help with homework?" Joe asked, approaching Patrick.

Patrick glanced up and shook his head. "Nope." He said and Joe nodded. As his butler was about to leave, Patrick developed the sudden urge to talk about his thoughts. "Wait." He called out.

Joe was at the door when he turned around. "Sir?"

Patrick bit his lip, hesitating. "Pete asked me today if I'd like to hang out with him to listen to some band he likes."

"Oh?" Joe sat down on the edge of Patrick's bed as the younger boy moved his chair to face his butler. "What did you say?"

"I didn't really give him a proper answer. Well, I just said 'We'll see,' and he thought I meant yes so he offered to pick me up this Friday after school to go to his place." He paused to assess Joe for a moment. "So, should I? I mean, with Lewis and Mom ... I don't know if I want to refer to the Wentz siblings as my siblings."

"They aren't getting married."

"Yet." Patrick added and looked at Joe pointedly before noticing the sad expression on his butler's face and was alarmed. "What's wrong, Joe?"

"Patrick, I know you miss your father a lot." The butler began. "And I'm certain he misses you and your mother too. But, don't you think that he wants you two to be happy?"

"I don't understand." Patrick said faintly. "But, Mom loved Dad ..."

Joe ruffled Patrick's hair in an affectionate brotherly manner. "When you truly love someone, their happiness always comes first."

"But Lewis won't ever replace Dad." Patrick argued petulantly.

"He won't. But think about it; your mother has found someone who makes her happy after your father passed away years ago. Don't you think it's best for her to move on and start anew instead of being sad for a long time?" Joe paused. "And you've been alone for the most part of your childhood. Perhaps things would be easier if you and Wentz siblings started to get along - they might not be so bad after all."

Patrick remained silent. Instead of answering, he opened his arms and hugged Joe, resting his face in his butler's shoulder. "You think so?"

"I know so. You're a good person, Patrick, and I don't see how they won't warm up to you." The butler said gently, patting the younger boy's shoulder reassuringly.

"Thanks Joe ..."


	5. 0.3

"I wouldn't suggest you to try to chew on that." Mikey said with a worried frown. "It's called a jawbreaker for a reason."

Jon's features split with a mischievous grin, the sort he'd usually wear when he was up to doing something ridiculous. "I have a strong jaw. And I might be able to break it." He held up the candy of question in his hand and wriggled his eyebrows.

"Or you might swallow it by accident and choke to death." Mikey said, unimpressed by Jon's claim before he bit into his chicken sandwich. His eyes flickered over to Patrick, who was nibbling on a lettuce leaf from his serving of salad distractedly. "What do you think?"

"Huh?" Patrick frowned, coming back into focus. He straightened up and regarded his friends. "Jon, you really don't want to do that."

"Yes, I do." Jon said, a crease now forming on his brow.

"I tried it once. I choked." The three turned in their seats and saw who it was who said that; it was Pete Wentz, bearing his tray of food standing before them. "Can I sit here? The other seats are taken." He said, somewhat bashfully.

Jon grinned and scooted a bit nearer to Mikey to make space for the boy. "Sure!"

Patrick frowned as Pete set his tray on the table and sat down, wondering if Pete was here to remind him that he would be picking him up this afternoon when lessons were dismissed for the day.

If anything, Pete didn't show that, instead unwrapped his burrito and dug in, looking as if he savored the bursts of flavor. He paused to check himself before he noticed that the three had stopped their conversations when he sat down. "So, Patrick, these are your friends?" He asked out of politeness.

Patrick nodded and introduced them. "This here's Jon and that's Mikey." He gestured at the two respectively. "Jon, Mikey, this is --"

"Ah, Mr Wentz I've heard a lot about you." Jon leaned over, winking at Pete. Beside the mischievous boy, Mikey groaned and rolled his eyes.

Pete cocked his head with an amused smile. "Really? What  _did_  you hear?"

"That you have  _wicked_  soccer skills." Jon said. "Ever wanted to try out for the state team?" He suggested.

Pete's smile didn't waver but Patrick thought he saw a flash of something in the boy's gaze. Pete shrugged, taking a bite out of his burrito. "I'd love to but I've got senior year. It's my last chance to get my grades up so I can get into a good college." He replied. "But I'll keep that in mind, thank you very much."

Patrick cut a glance at Mikey, who was now staring at Pete with an intent look on his face as Jon and Pete kept up the chatter, drifting away from the topic of soccer to video games. With a baffled shrug, Patrick continued to eat and was already finished with his food when Pete turned to him and said, "Remember, I'll pick you up later."

And then he got up and left the table, leaving Jon and Mikey staring after him with curiosity and Patrick sighing. Jon looked at him, cocking his head questioningly. "Do you have a date with him or something?"

Patrick was taken aback by his straightforward inquiry, flushing. "What?  _No_." He snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's ... complicated." Immediately after his response was uttered did he regret saying it that way because both of his friends started to goggle at him.

"Wait, what do you mean it's  _complicated_?" Mikey demanded, his voice shooting up an octave.

"So like, are you guys friends with benefits? Or fuck buddies?" Jon's assumptions were worsening the situation because Mikey whipped around and stared at him in horror.

Patrick's face burned but he said, a little forcefully. "Jon,  _stop it_." He sighed and shook his head in exasperation to Jon's half-apologetic shrug and proceeded to give them a summarized version of him and Pete.

"You could've said he was going to be your stepbrother." Mikey said with a petulant tone, narrowing his eyes at Patrick as Jon nodded in agreement.

"I could." Patrick replied and glanced at the direction where Pete had left, a small frown creasing his brow. "But the thing is, I don't want him to my stepbrother."

"Why not? He's like the coolest senior in school." Jon protested and Mikey muttered something under his breath about the damned social hierarchy that all schools seemed to have and how shallow-minded his friend was. "It's true and you know it, Mikey." Jon flashed him an annoyed scowl. "I saw the way you were  _looking_  at him!"

Mikey looked as if he had been slapped. "There was a  _zit_  at the base of his nose!"

"So you've got a zit kink?"

The two continued to bicker while Patrick sat across them with an anxious look, chewing on his lower lip as he thought of how to survive not getting any closer with the Wentz who offered to pick him up from school.

*

When the bell rang to signify the end of lessons for the day, Patrick felt the knot at the base of his stomach tighten harder than it had been for the past hours. He was doing things as slowly as he could; putting his stationeries back into his pencil case and books back into his bag while others were filing out of the classroom. Sweat was building up at his nape and his throat was getting drier and drier as he shouldered his bag.

The hallways were chaotic, students jostling about as they moved in a single flow towards the exit, the cacophony of conversations intermingling and clashing with one another. Patrick resisted the urge to clamp over his ears while trying not to get trampled by the crowd until he made it outside. Hurrying aside of the throngs, he stood under a tree as his eyes searched the crowd for his friends - and Pete.

Now, he and his friends had already established this spot as their meet-up point once school was dismissed but Patrick wasn't so sure if Pete would know where he would be waiting for him. His hand gripped his bag's shoulder straps as he stood on tiptoes to see past the sea of heads. Someone tapped his arm from behind. He turned around.

"Hey." Pete grinned at him, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Hi." Patrick said and realized he was mirroring Pete's recent action so he stopped himself. He didn't know why but being around Pete made him feel nervous, especially when this guy was being so nice to him while he was trying to keep him at arm's length. Nevertheless, he reminded himself inwardly of Joe's words. Pete couldn't be that bad if he was treating Patrick this way.

He was barely aware of Pete snapping his fingers in front of his face. Blinking out of his daze, Patrick frowned. "Sorry, what?"

Pete sighed but didn't appear as though he were annoyed. "You were staring off at something. Anyway, you ready to go or do you want to say bye to your friends?" The two glanced back at the thinning crowd of students.

Patrick shrugged then nodded. "Sure."

The two boys set off in the direction of the school parking lot. The strawberry blond trailed behind Pete, who was whistling casually. A couple of people passed them by, all greeting the boy before Patrick but not giving the younger of the two a second glance. He was very used to this treatment, seeing as he wasn't a very social person. He didn't mind though, instead was more preoccupied with observing how Pete reacted to them.

He treated them all like they were the best of friends although Patrick distinctly remembered that they weren't part of his usual circle. They reached a black Mercedes-Bentz and the car gave a welcoming beep as Pete pressed the button on his keys - the Wentz family was wealthy so it came as no surprise that he owned this model. The interior was just as clean as the exterior, smelling of leather and air freshener.

Patrick wondered if this car had been cleaned recently for his sake so that Pete could make a good first impression.

"Do you mind if I play my tunes?" Pete asked as he turned the ignition on while Patrick fastened his seatbelt. "I hope you're okay with alternative."

"Anything goes." Patrick mumbled, watching from the corner of his eye as Pete grabbed his iPod from the side compartment, plugging it to the car's audio system and choosing a playlist. Soon, a mellow song began to play on the stereo. Detachedly, he decided to listen to the track and as they drove all the way to Pete's house, Patrick found himself humming along softly.

*

Patrick's first impression of Pete's house was grand. The Wentz family mansion was large, and they were greeted by the housekeeper, Antonia, when they entered. They were now in Pete's bedroom and Patrick was sitting at a beanbag at one corner of the room next to a bookshelf filled with novels. He hadn't had the time to look at the books because he was watching Pete select a couple of albums from his collection.

He twiddled his thumbs, allowing his mind to drift around random details such as the shade of light blue of Pete's room which was coincidentally the same hue as his and also his favorite color. He found this a bit uncanny but ignored it and was now staring off at Pete's wardrobe when the dark-haired boy passed by him to the compact stereo system perched on a stand behind him and fiddled with a few buttons.

"So, Patrick, what do you like to do in your free time?" Pete asked abruptly when the music began to play.

Patrick started in surprise, glancing at him as the older boy sat down across him on another beanbag with a curious expression. "Oh, um." The strawberry blond mumbled, thinking. "I love to read."

Pete beamed. "Really? I do too. What sort of books do you read?" He asked, genuinely interested.

"Encyclopedias, but I have a soft spot for literature."

Pete snorted, the sound making Patrick frown slightly in confusion. "What? Old boring stuff like Shakespeare?"

"Um, not really. I mostly read Dante, Swinburne, Jane Austen and Charles Dickens --" he broke of as Pete began to snicker. Heat rushed into his cheeks, wondering if he said something wrong. "What?"

"What kind of a name is that?" Pete questioned amusedly.

"Dickens?"

"Sounds like  _dick_." Pete commented.

Patrick decided not to comment because he felt slightly annoyed that Pete had practically made fun of an author he liked. "What books do  _you_  read then?" He asked.

"Teen fiction and young adult. But I like playing the bass more. I've had a few private lessons but I've picked up a couple of stuff to play so I practise on them even if it's a bit tricky." Pete said, gesturing at the said music instrument which was propped up on a stand by his bed. "Do you play anything?"

"If you mean musical instruments, no. Well, not currently." Patrick admitted. "But I happen to like chess a lot." He replied.

Pete made a face. "Chess? Isn't that like an old-man's game? I mean, you do look like the brainy sort of type but I didn't think  _you_  actually liked all those stuff you said." He opined aloud, shaking his head with a chuckle. The look on his features made Patrick feel all the more insecure talking about himself; it almost felt like Pete was judging him, although that could just be him.

But Patrick couldn't stand by Pete calling chess 'an old-man's game' considering that this was what he and his father used to play every night. It was like the Wentz was insulting the memory of David and while Patrick knew Pete probably didn't mean it to come our rude, he couldn't help but feel offended. Heat rose to his cheeks and he heard himself saying in a rather cold tone, "Well apparently, you thought wrong."

Pete's lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, perhaps to backpedal, but Patrick had brushed himself off and stood up. Without looking at the dark-haired boy, he strode out of the room and ignored the apologetic calls from behind him.


	6. 0.4

"Patrick! Patrick, wait I --" Pete's voice was cut off when he let out a surprised sound, followed by a thud.

Patrick, who had been so focused on storming his way out of the Wentz mansion, whipped around to find Pete a few feet away getting up. In a split second, he rushed over to help the dark-haired boy. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?" He asked somewhat worriedly, noticing the way Pete winced when he rubbed his right knee.

"Yea, I'll be alright." Pete flushed, turning his face away from Patrick's, but not before the slight flush in his cheeks had been seen.

Patrick nodded, then drew back from him and he was surprised that he was a bit concerned for him, even if he was cross with Pete for insulting him earlier. Sighing, he bit his lip and opened his mouth to say something.

Pete had spoken before he could. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I tend to talk before I think so I apologize for being really unfiltered." He met Patrick's eyes sheepishly. "And it was my fault for thinking you didn't mind that I say the first thing that pops into my mind."

"It's fine." Patrick mumbled, narrowing his eyes in the slightest at the Wentz boy.

Pete bit his lip, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "So, uh, maybe you'd like to play video games with me?"

By God, this boy is persistent, Patrick thought with a slight tinge of annoyance. He had been so determined to leave this place earlier, that now when he thought about it, didn't seem worth the trouble. For one, he'd have somebody - Pete, obviously - insisting to send him home or ask him to stay for a bit longer. Besides that, Joe would be asking him all sorts of questions on how it went with Pete, which he had to admit that he wasn't mentally prepared for.

"Sure." He followed after Pete down the hallway, passing a couple of rooms when they reached what Patrick assumed was the game room. Inside the area, a flat screen tv was mounted on the wall, facing an L-shaped couch, beanbags and was hooked up to a couple of consoles. To his right, a shelf stood against the wall, chock-filled with various game titles that were, for some reason, arranged by colors. To his left, there was an gaming laptop sat on a desk hooked to a complicated-looking mouse and a pair of huge headphones.

"I don't let anyone else play in here." Pete said, glancing at him as if to assess his reaction; if anything, it was probably lost on him as Patrick was a casual gamer that limited himself to 2048 and Candy Crush on his phone. "Andrew's not really one for gaming and Hillary prefers to do graphic designing. Anyway, make yourself home." Pete added before he went straight for the shelf and waved the strawberry blond to wait at the couch. "Hold on, lemme look for it."

Unsure of what to do next, Patrick examined the gaming consoles and shook his head. He could tell the Wentz boy was very serious about this and felt slightly anxious thinking about how crap his hand-eye coordination and reflexes were. He turned around to find Pete approaching with a game title in his hands.

"Excuse me." The dark-haired boy mumbled and Patrick moved hastily to make space then peered curiously to see what sort of game Pete had chosen. He was unsuccessful, however, finding that the title was covered by the boy's hand. He went to take a seat at the couch while Pete fiddled here and there with the consoles.

"Ah, okay. Here we go." Pete grinned at him over his shoulder and gestured for him to get up. "We'll be playing this random dance game I have on the XBox Kinect."

Patrick stared at him. "Oh, no. I can't --" He stopped short when Pete laughed and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Don't worry. I have two left feet too, alright?" Pete smirked, nudging the strawberry blond who was once again wishing he hadn't agreed to coming over to the Wentz residence in the first place. "Anyway, nobody's gonna barge in so it's just between us." He reasoned.

A sort of upbeat song began to play and Pete began to hum along, bobbing his head when he placed his hands on Patrick's shoulders and pushed him slightly to the side so that he lined up properly with the camera. Then he went back to his position and stuck out his hand. "We'll just dance to the easy songs."

"Okay?" Patrick arched an eyebrow, staring at himself on one corner of the tv screen. "So, what are the rules? Why aren't we using any controllers?"

"Oh, Sophomore Stump, the rules are simple." Pete grinned as he waved his hand to pan through the choices. "You gotta follow the arrows onscreen and do the same movement. As for the controllers, we don't need them -- Oh! I love this song." He commented brightly and selected some song that Patrick had never heard of. "I've never danced to it so this should be fun!" He added and Patrick wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not.

When the song began, a new background popped up on the tv screen wherein there were two characters, one for Pete and one for Patrick, stood awaiting for the song to begin. "Okay so yours is that hot babe on your side and mine's this street-looking dude." Pete said and bounced on his feet in efforts to loosen himself up.

"Why do I get the girl?" Patrick mused aloud, mimicking Pete's actions and trying hard to ignore the incessant thought of how stupid he looked.

Pete shrugged. "Dunno. CPU's pretty weird - it's starting!" He exclaimed as an lively song began to play with the sort of rhythm that tempted one to move along to.

Unprepared for the whole thing, Patrick found himself bumbling through the intro, messing up the moves until Pete reminded him to follow the direction of the arrows. Hastily, he corrected himself and seemed to be doing slightly better than he had been earlier although once or twice, he nearly hit Pete in the face over the course of the song. If anyone had been watching the two boys dance, they would've gotten the laugh of their lives as the duo were both amusingly terrible, flailing their arms in the manner of panicked chickens.

When it was over, Patrick was sweating and a bit out of breath. There was a flush tinting his pale cheeks. "Well that was --"

"Freaking fun." Pete laughed. "You weren't too bad. Was that your first time?" He asked as their scored popped up on the screen.

Patrick glanced at it, this time he wasn't as concerned about as he had been earlier. He shook his head, lips curving up slightly at the sides. "Yes, actually. I didn't think it'd be this enjoyable."

"Me too." Pete agreed and earned a curious look from Patrick. "I mean, I've never played this with anyone."

"Really? What about your siblings?"

Something in Pete's features changed as his smile faltered a bit. He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. For some reason, he wouldn't meet Patrick's gaze, instead focused on the tv screen. "Like I said earlier, they're not really into video games." He said, his tone sounding a little too rueful to be considered that of a casual statement.

Patrick wanted to ask more but the expression on Pete's face told him that it was best to leave it be. There was something achingly familiar in the boy's eyes yet he couldn't place a finger on it. But the moment the dark-haired boy looked at him, he glanced hastily away with his cheeks reddening. "Oh look, there's a snapshot of us dancing." He changed the topic, ignoring the quick pulse in his veins.

Pete, momentarily forgetting about their conversation about his siblings, nodded. "We look like chickens." He laughed, a contagious noise accompanied by an exaggerated movement that parodied the dance, making the strawberry blond crack up as well.

And soon after, Patrick found Pete a little more bearable than he had been earlier.

*

When Patrick was at home later getting ready for dinner, he began to think about Pete's odd behavior when he had asked about his siblings. He found it curious how Pete's whole behavior had changed and wondered if there had been a spat amongst the Wentz siblings. Come to think of it, he didn't see a hair nor hide of Hillary or Andrew. And the way Pete had warmed up to him so quickly, despite Patrick trying to keep his distance ...

There was a knock on his door, breaking him out of his train of thought. Hurriedly pulling his sweater over his head, he went to open the door just as Joe peered round the door.

"Is Mom home?" He asked before the butler could speak.

"Yes. And dinner's ready, sir." He added and stepped back so that the younger boy could come out of his room. He regarded him curiously with a small smile curving the corner of his lips. "You seem to be in a good mood." He observed as they made their way downstairs to the dining area. "I haven't gotten the chance to ask you about how it went with Mr Pete Wentz."

"Huh?" Patrick glanced over his shoulder at him. "Oh, I - Pete's alright." He answered. "But I didn't get to bump into Hillary and Andrew. By the way, Pete said that Mom will be meeting Lewis at the country club. Is that true?"

Joe paused as they arrived at the downstairs. "It's not my place to answer. Perhaps it would be best if you asked your mother." He said politely and Patrick fought back a tinge of disappointment.

The dining area had been set up by the butler himself, so there was no doubt it looked presentable that night. Patrick sat at his spot, which was beside the head of the table where his mother sat; she wasn't present yet, presumably getting ready upstairs. The table was large enough to fit at least eight people and, idly, Patrick pondered when the day the Wentz family would come over to have dinner here.

The thought of it somehow scared him, reminding him that as each day passed it wouldn't be long till Patricia would finally tell Patrick about her and Lewis' engagement. His nerves tingled with apprehension at the mere notion of that.

"Hello, dear."

Patrick glanced up to find his mother sitting at the head of the table and managed a small smile, greeting her in reply. "Hi Mom. How was work today?" He asked, knowing that she'd be most likely to talk about how the hotel business David had left her was brisk lately and whatnot.

They were soon served dinner by their cook and Joe. Then the staff left mother and son be as they ate their meal in silence, occasionally breaking it to catch up with what was going on at Patrick's school. He was telling her about what he had learned for the day, what homework he had received when he said, "After dismissal, Pete and I went to his place to hang out for a bit."

The news brought a smile on her face. "Really? Oh, that's great! How did it go?"

Patrick hesitated. He was about to complain about how Pete had hurt his ego when the image Pete's face when the mention of his siblings was brought up flashed behind his eyes. Biting his lip at the last second, he decided to leave that part out and told her about them playing video games.

She beamed at him with such happiness, he almost shied away from her in confusion. "It's good to hear that the both of you are getting along. You'd both make good brothers."

His stomach lurched at the thought of calling Pete his brother; that was such a big step from warming up to him. Feeling slightly anxious, he changed the topic. "Anyway, Pete said you and Lewis will be going to the country club." He said.

Patricia nodded. "Yes. In fact, we agreed to bring you kids along too."

He nearly dropped his fork. "What?" He stared at her, wide-eyed with surprise. He couldn't believe that he'd now be forced, in a way, to socialize with the Wentz. It was all coming too soon, and even though Patrick foresaw this, the shock of this was enough for him to lose his appetite to finish his dinner. "When are we going?"

"This Saturday, of course. Don't worry, Lewis and his kids are nice people." She repeated that last sentence for what felt like the hundredth time since she told her son about her and Lewis. "It'll be fun."

Patrick didn't agree, knowing how awkward it had been dealing with one of the Wentz and worried about how he'd hold up with the whole lot, but then he didn't have much say about the matter and chased his food glumly with his fork.


	7. 0.5

"So tell me your secrets, senpai." Jon pleaded, clinging onto Patrick's arm like a barnacle as they walked down the hallway, causing a few heads to turn their way in curiosity. "How are you friends with Pete Wentz??"

Patrick sighed, trying to squirm away from his best friend but that only made him hold on tighter. With a mildly exasperated sigh, he said, "We're not friends."

"I told you so." Mikey cast Jon a superior sort of look at the boy. "Why else would Patrick look so uncomfortable when he was around?"

"Oh, shush you." Jon stuck his tongue out at the taller boy but let go of Patrick immediately. His features were pensive. "I mean, Pete is seriously the coolest guy in senior year. Look at all the people he hangs out with."

"The popular kids." Mikey sighed wearily. "Yes, we know because you've said that for about hundred times this week."

"Your mom must be proud of your math. Dear Mikey, I only said that four times." Jon rolled his eyes. "Over the past two days if I might add."

"Okay, so like Pete's dad is gonna marry my mom and basically they want to make things easier for me and the Wentz siblings by making me hang out with them." Patrick said, doing so for the purpose of stopping Jon from hovering around him like a bat with questions about Pete whenever the Wentz boy spoke to him. Hearing their stunned silence made him feel awfully conscious of his situation with Pete so he changed the topic to Gerard Way's new hair color, which seemed to raise a few of Mikey's complaints about how people were calling his older brother a lemon behind his back.

But of course the effect only lasted for so long until Pete passed by them, talking to a tall, lanky boy, and smiled affably at Patrick.

*

"But I don't know anything about golf." Patrick complained on the trip to the prestigious country club where he and Patricia would meet the Wentz family. "How do you even play it?" He asked in bafflement.

Beside him, Patricia gave him an amused grin and ruffled his hair affectionately. "You don't have to join is if you don't want to. I'm sure they won't mind you if you kids watch." She said, trying to sound encouraging but the prospect of actually meeting the three Wentz siblings did terrify Patrick a little. He wasn't sure what to expect from Andrew and Hilary, wondering if they'd be like Pete.

Fighting back the urge to get out of the car, he stared out at the window, noticing the size of the country club's golf course as they arrived and knew it would be a long day. As he and his mother got out of the car while Joe went to get their things in the boot, Patrick felt really anxious and his stomach had that twisty-sensation like he had eaten something bad.

They went straight for the front desk and Patricia proceeded to inquiring the receptionist. Uncertainly, he stood with her for a moment when he decided to distract himself. As the waiting area had a pretty good view of the country club, he shuffled through his bag and produced the trusty old Polaroid his father had given him.

Wiping the lens with his sleeve, he took a few test shots at the potted plant beside him, the portrait of the club manager at the wall to his left and then his hand. After he was sure his camera was working fine, he was about to take a picture of the view, just to amuse himself, when someone called Patrick's name excitedly a few feet away. "Oh my God! It's Patrick Stump!"

Confused, he turned around only to find Pete jogging up to him with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, hey Pete." He said with a small smile before glancing past the dark-haired to find his younger sister, Hilary, and older brother, Andrew. Behind his siblings was a man and Patrick knew right away that he was their father, Lewis. He was of average height, had brown hair that was graying at the sides and slightly ruddy cheeks. Lewis was wearing a smile that became all the more visible when he laid eyes on Patricia.

Patrick stiffened involuntarily at the sight of the man, whom his mother was going to marry, embracing Patricia and felt a bitter knot of resentment tighten in his chest. Although he knew perfectly well that they were seeing each other, the memory of seeing David hugging Patricia the very same way Lewis did resurfaced and Patrick's forehead began to crease with disapproval.

What did she even see in this man, Patrick wondered as he watched the two converse with one another. Apparently Lewis said something funny and his mother laughed in response, touching his arm affectionately.

"Hey, you okay?" Pete broke into his reverie, looking concerned.

"Oh? Um." The strawberry blond glanced at his mother and Lewis one last time, with distaste, then back at the worried boy. "I'm alright."

"So this is Patrick Stump, Patricia's beloved little son." Andrew grinned at the younger boy and shook hands with him firmly. He had a tall and lanky stature, towering over Patrick and his other siblings. His hair, unlike Pete's, was a mess of black springy curls. Despite his body structure, he was wearing a hoodie at least two sizes too big and baggy jeans. For some reason, he kinda looked like a watered-down version of Pete, although the differences between him and his brother, besides the obvious heights, were his beaky nose and acne-covered cheeks.

"Okay, you might pull his hand off." Pete muttered under his breath, separating Patrick's and Andrew's joined hands and shooting his brother a glare. Andrew simply smirked, although when he did Patrick couldn't help but feel a prickle of unease.

"This is Hilary. I'm sure you've seen her once or twice at school." Pete introduced his sister next, gesturing at the slender girl beside him. She had long brown hair, delicate features and the same olive skin tone that the Wentz siblings shared, unlike their father's pale skin tone. It hadn't occurred to Patrick that they were biracial before because he had only ever seen Pete and brief glimpses of Hilary, so he thought the reason behind Pete's skin tone was because he had spent some amount of time under the sun daily.

Hilary glanced up at Patrick with those light brown eyes, flashing a brief smile before returning her attention to texting on her phone.

Pete's expression faltered but when he noticed Patrick looking at him in bafflement, he quickly wore a smile to disguise the fact that he had been frowning.

Then his eyes went to Patrick's camera a look of marveled fascination lit up his gaze. "Oh!" He exclaimed, pointing at the Polaroid. "That's a really neat camera you got there. It does the little printing thingy --" He broke off, frowning with effort as he tried to recall its name. "Saladoy? Hole-a-ray? I know the name starts with a P! Um, whatsitcalled --"

"Polaroid." Patrick said, laughing a little at the strange names Pete had come up with. "It's actually called Polaroid camera." He added as Pete stared at it in wonderment.

Andrew, who was staring off in a bored sort of manner, frowned in amusement at his younger brother. "Wow, Pete. Didn't think you were interested in antiques." He commented and Pete scowled at him.

Patrick was about to protest that his camera wasn't that old to be considered antique when Lewis and Patricia came up to them. A frown formed on his features when he looked at their hands before he returned his gaze back to Lewis, who was telling them that he and Patricia would be playing golf together while Patrick and the Wentz siblings were free to try out the facilities they had at the country club.

He handed them all keys to their locker where they could store their things for the meantime and when he passed the key to Patrick, brushing against the skin of his palm, the younger boy had to fight the urge to flinch away.

*

"So, like, I think we should try out the swimming pool." Andrew told them as they made their way to the locker rooms. He was walking with an insouciant sauntering pace that seemed well exaggerated due to his stature.

Beside Patrick, Pete muttered incoherently under his breath.

Hilary, who was walking behind them, snorted. "You're just saying that because you want to ogle the girls at the pool."

"Ding-dong!" Andrew's voice rang out, bouncing around the corridor walls as he swiveled around on his heels and grinned at them, sending the same prickling unease up Patrick's spine. "Wrong."

Hilary scoffed incredulously then turned to Patrick. It was the first time she had properly acknowledged his presence when she asked him, "Well, since Patrick's here so why don't you let him pick?"

Patrick's cheeks flushed as Andrew gave her an indignant glare. He bit his lip, rubbing his arm awkwardly when Pete leaned close to his ear and whispered. "Let's just play tennis. Y'know, it can be us against them." He suggested with a rather obvious wink.

"Yikes, now don't tell me you're trying to influence his decision." Andrew frowned.

"Well, we'll play tennis then." Patrick said with a shrug, not really particular with what the activities they would do today as long as he survived and had all four limbs intact at the end of the day, as Pete stuck his tongue out triumphantly.

Hilary broke away from the group to enter the ladies' locker room. The boys went straight for the men's and Patrick was referring to the number labeled on the key when Pete came up to him with his own. "You're in luck." He commented, leading the younger boy away from his brother. "Your locker's next to mine on the other side of the room."

"But what about Andrew?" The strawberry-blond asked, glancing over his shoulder at the oldest boy in the room.

Pete simply shook his head but didn't tell Patrick the reason as he set his bag down on a bench and began to pull out the clothes he wanted to change into. He paused like he had just remembered something and looked up at the younger boy with wide eyes. "Wait, do you know how to play tennis?"

"Uh." Patrick flushed, unable to answer because he was embarrassed to admit that he had no clue how the rules went, besides hitting the ball with a racket to the other side of the court while making loud noises of effort - at least, that was what he observed when watching matches on tv.

Pete sighed, facepalming. "We're doomed."


	8. 0.6

"What do you mean  _we're doomed_?" Patrick demanded, suddenly feeling lightheaded with anxiety.

"We're  _so_  gonna lose against Andrew and Hilary." Pete said with a rather dramatic air.

"But I never said whether I knew how to play tennis or not!"

Pete frowned. "Your hesitant answer gave me some idea that you've never played it before." He argued.

Patrick scoffed indignantly, pushing the key into the locker's hole and turning it. "It's just hitting the ball, right?"

"That's where you're wrong." Pete shook his head, wagging his finger along.

"How am I wrong?"

"It's a refined sport!" You don't just  _hit_  the ball." Pete exclaimed, sounding rather disturbed by the younger boy's view on how to play the game. The disbelieving look on his face disappeared the moment he saw Patrick struggling to push his locker shut as it kept opening by itself. "Leave it alone. Just put your stuff in my locker; I'm sure there's enough space for our stuff."

Muttering a few thanks, Patrick slid the key into the side pocket of his bag and took the clothes he needed out of it while Pete began to take his shirt off. The sight distracted the younger boy, drawing his eyes to Pete's skin where muscles coiled underneath it. Patrick's cheeks flamed when his gaze was met by Pete's. Embarrassed that he'd been caught staring, the strawberry blond pretended to cough.

"What's wrong?" Pete asked.

"Nothing." Patrick hastily unzipped his bag, turning around to change. This was partly because he didn't want Pete to think he was being weird and that he had seen Pete's lean upper body so he was feeling self-conscious of his own. He could feel Pete's eyes on his back as he changed into the tennis attire he had bought yesterday. Then he heard shuffling and turned around, finding Pete holding his Polaroid.

It was like a rush. First it was in the boy's hands and then Patrick was saying the next words quickly with a worried tone. "Oh no, please be careful with that! It belonged to my dad."

Pete started and put it down hastily on the bench with an apologetic expression. "I was just having a look."

Patrick seized the camera, clutching it tightly in his hands. His heart was thumping in his throat as he and Pete stared at each other for a moment. Embarrassment set in when he realized how he had practically leapt at Pete even though the boy hadn't done anything wrong and bit his lip with hesitation. "I-I'm sorry. I just --" He sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to calm himself down.

"No, I should apologize." Pete mumbled contritely. "I just have a habit of doing things before thinking - it's a Wentz thing, being impulsive. Anyway, I should've asked."

Even though it was Pete who was apologizing, Patrick felt bad like he had kicked a puppy by accident. Tentatively, he sat down beside him and held his camera out to Pete. "Here. I - You can try it out if you want to." He said quietly.

And Pete's eyes beamed, his expression lighting up as he accepted the Polaroid and Patrick felt a warm flutter in his chest. The strawberry blond watched Pete with a slight smile as the boy looked at the camera at all angles, cocking his head in such a manner that Patrick chuckled.

"So, uh, where do I press if I want the picture to print? How long do you have to wait for the photo to develop? Is it necessary to shake it so that the ink dries?" Patrick was bombarded with questions from him and he answered them one by one while Pete grew more and more fascinated.

"Cool." Pete breathed and held it up. Patrick was about to ask him what he was up to when Pete wrapped his arm around him and leaned his head close to him. "Alright, let's take a selfie with this baby! Say 'cheese!'" He said and before any protests could be made, a snap went off and the picture slid out of the slot.

While Patrick was blinking the flash out of his eyes, Pete was shaking the photograph when he let out a gasp, showing it to the strawberry blond. "Look! That's us. Oh my gosh, don't we look like an awesome duo." He commented, grinning.

And as Pete's excitement of seeing a Polaroid for the the first time was so contagious, Patrick couldn't help but smile, the same fluttering warmth of seeing Pete so happy felt under his ribcage.

*

A couple of rounds into tennis with the Wentz siblings and Patrick was feeling like he had run a whole marathon. The sport was more intense than he thought and sweat was already rolling off his skin, making his shirt stick to his back uncomfortably.

"We can do this, Patrick." Pete panted, jogging up to him as he bounced the tennis ball. "We can still turn the game around."

"Fat chance!" Andrew called out from the other side of the court tauntingly.

Patrick was handed the ball by the older boy who glared balefully at his brother, muttering something about how rude he was. A new resolve pulsed through him when he met Pete's eyes. Swiveling on his foot, he readied his racket and served. It wasn't as bad as his earlier attempts but it did the job properly, that Andrew had to scramble and nearly knocked Hilary off.

Determination could be seen between the two sides as the ball was hit back and forth. When the yellow sphere crossed over to Pete and Patrick's court, Patrick made a mad dive for it. Time seemed to slow as he swung his racket with all his might.

Unfortunately, it was too little too late because the ball missed the racket by an inch and the strawberry blond found himself landing down on his bottom first before his back came into contact with the ground. The shock of the fall sent a jolt up his spine when Andrew let out a bellow of triumph. He felt embarrassed, having failed at saving both himself and Pete from the loss. His face was burning but it wasn't completely from the exertion.

He looked up and was surprised to find a worried Pete, who wasn't at all frustrated by Patrick's weak attempt, running up to him. "Are you okay??" He asked and pulled Patrick to his feet; even if his palm was sweaty, his grip was firm. Pete began to dust the younger boy off, much to his protests.

"No, Pete - I'm alright." Patrick stopped Pete from fussing over him.

"Okay." The dark-haired boy nodded, looking relieved when he took another good look at Patrick. Then a frown came over his features, darkening those light brown eyes considerably that Patrick backed a step in alarm. Pete took his arm and turned it, showing the scrape on his elbow. "We'd better get you cleaned up."

"It's not that bad." Patrick protested but Pete was already telling his siblings that he and Patrick would be taking a quick break. With his hand placed firmly on the strawberry blond's shoulder, they went back to the locker room. By then, Patrick had given up on objecting as Pete told him to wash his scrape while he went to search his bag for Band-Aids. He came back within half a minute and sat Patrick down on the bench before putting a cheery dinosaur-themed one on the boy's elbow.

"So what do you think?" Pete asked in a slight monotone.

"Thanks." Patrick drew back, thinking he was talking about the Band-Aid. "Is that a Brachiosaurus?" He pointed at his elbow.

But Pete didn't answer him, instead had a fiercely pensive look on his features. "I meant my brother and sister." He said.

"Oh." Patrick shrugged, biting his lip. "They seem ... alright?" He mumbled with uncertainty.

"Andrew did that on purpose." Pete said, meeting Patrick's questioning gaze. "He hit that ball off to the side. I mean, I don't blame you for dashing after the ball but he did that just to see how far you'd go to save us from losing."

"Maybe he didn't really mean it - y'know, like in the heat of the moment." Patrick reasoned but Pete didn't seem convinced.

"Nah. He's done stuff similar to that to me back at home. There was one time he pushed past me so hard that I almost broke my wrist on the basketball court while trying to break the fall." Upon seeing Patrick's alarmed expression, he added," No serious damage, though. But still, keep an eye on Andrew."

This made Patrick even more curious on what was the situation between the three Wentz siblings. He wanted to convince himself that Pete's behavior was probably some indicator of brotherly rivalry between him and Andrew but the immensely worried look on his face made the younger boy think otherwise. Wanting to clear the air of the uncomfortable tension, Patrick said, "I think Hilary's nice enough."

The contemplative frown on Pete's face evaporated when he snorted at Patrick's observation. "She's only nice now because it's the first time that we're all meeting you properly - not like the occasional glimpses across the school hallway. Wait till we become brothers, then you'll know how --" He broke off, eyes widening like he was shocked at how close he was to talking about something he didn't normally talked about.

Patrick opened his mouth to say something but Pete was already standing up and changing the subject when someone walked inside.

It was none other than Lewis, with a towel slung over his shoulder and his golf cap in his left hand.

Lewis regarded at both Pete and Patrick and greeted them in a friendly baritone of a voice. "Hello there, boys. How are you?"

It took Patrick about about three seconds to realize that the man before him was addressing him. He felt something tighten warningly in his stomach but found himself answering politely, "Fine, thanks. And you?"

"I'm good, thanks." Lewis replied with the same affable tone and Patrick couldn't help but ponder if he was just being nice now so he could butter him up. If so, it was very convincing but Patrick reminded himself to be wary of this man who was planning to marry his mother. With a tight-lipped smile, he stood up from Pete just as the boy went to speak with his father.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, he took a quick swing from his water bottle and brought his camera along with him. Out in the corridor, he decided to take a few snaps of a particularly interesting painting hung on the wall idly when an idea occured to him. But he hesitated, not wanting to do such a thing. But after a moment, he sighed and went back to the locker room with his camera clutched in his hand.

There was a see-through screen on the door and as Patrick peered in through it, he saw both Pete and Lewis conversing. Briefly his mind flashed back to when he had asked Patricia what she saw in the man.

 _Many things_ , she had sighed with a moony sort of look in her eyes.  _But he is, in a way, like David. I can't explain it but he just has the same sort of aura._

Patrick's eyes squinted as he tried to put himself in his mother's shoes and stared right at Lewis. However hard he did so, he couldn't see anything reminiscent of his father. If anything, they were totally different. Maybe it was his looks. Patrick still remembered how David looked, vividly, but it wouldn't hurt if he did what he was about to do.

Raising the camera to his eye, he waited until the opportune moment arrived.  _Snap!_  went the Polaroid as he took the picture of Lewis. Afraid that the noise was heard, he drew away quickly from the door and held his breath. His pulse drumming in his ears counted away the time until he was certain that they didn't hear the camera. The newly-developed photograph was in his hand but Patrick didn't take a look at it, instead straightened up and squared his shoulders.

His hand was on the doorknob and was turning it when he went inside. His arrival had gone unnoticed by the two members of the Wentz family. Silently, he made his way back to Pete's locker and stuffed both the camera and the photograph in his bag, zipping it up.

That was when his ear picked up on something that he probably shouldn't have heard and judged right away.

"I can't  _stand_  him, Dad." Pete was saying, almost whining. "Why did we even agree to meet them here in the first place?"

"Now, now Pete. We're all supposed to be getting along." Lewis chided. "Just, pull it together. For our sake."

"But you know how I feel about him around!" Pete replied and somehow Patrick felt a stab of betrayal and disbelief in his chest; Pete couldn't possibly be speaking ill of him, could he? Patrick's body was tense as a taut wire as Pete continued. "He acts like a - I don't know if it's the right word to describe him but he's a being bit of a  _snob_. You  _saw_  the way he greeted --"

"Not another word from you, young man." Lewis admonished. "Please. Just save your complaints for home later on. You don't want the Stumps to think you're not enjoying yourself."

Pete responded but Patrick, with his ears ringing from the conversation he had heard and the pinpricks of hurt impaling themselves in him, hurried out the locker room, nearly walking into Patricia on the way out. He didn't stop to answer his mother's questions. He wanted to stay far away from Pete for the meantime.


	9. 0.7

The rest of the day, Patrick had gone really quiet and often gave sideways glances at Pets the whole time, who acted like the conversation with his father earlier hadn't happened. Eavesdropping had been both a big mistake and a huge advantage, depending on how you saw it. At least it gave Patrick some insight on what Pete  _really_  thought about him, on the assumption that Pete was talking about him.

If the Wentz didn't truly get along with Patrick like he had complained earlier, either it wasn't really Patrick he was talking about or he happened to be a really good actor. Patrick wanted to consider the latter but then again, he was certain that if boys didn't like someone, they wouldn't fake it and suck it up to them. But it wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings if he put a little more distance between himself and Pete, would it?

He was so deep in contemplation, that he didn't realize he was about to nibble off the tines of his fork instead of the cake, which he thought he had already stabbed with his fork. He caught himself, blinking in confusion before setting the utensil down and stared out the window overlooking the swimming pool. He had chosen to stay inside the cafe while the Wentz family and his mother bonded outside in the sun.

He felt a twinge of bitterness watching the way Lewis made Patricia laugh but his attention on them was jarred when someone wrapped in a towel decided to block his view. A frown settled itself on his features when he realized it was Pete drying his hair off. There was a sudden pinch in his chest when he remembered what Pete had said back in the locker room and suddenly, Patrick didn't feel like finishing his strawberry cake at all.

And it was such a shame, really, for he had bought it to cheer himself up and now that he had lost his appetite ...

Distracted by his thoughts, he hadn't realized Pete sliding into the seat across him until the boy waved his hand in front Patrick's face. The strawberry blond started, confused at first, when he looked at Pete rather uncomfortably. His stomach twisted itself into tangles and if it was possible, Pete's earlier words echoed louder in his head that he could hear it over the din of the cafe.

Pete smiled at him and the younger of the two couldn't help but shift in his seat, tight-lipped with suppressed apprehension. He wanted so much to believe that the dark-haired boy hadn't been speaking ill about him yet it was difficult for him to resist the urge to get up and leave abruptly.

Patrick didn't hear what Pete had said at first. "What?"

"Do you like the cake?" Pete asked, gesturing at the unfinished slice with arched eyebrows. His hair was still damp from the water and the glistening droplets sticking onto the strands caught sunlight streaming in from the window.

Patrick bit his lip, fiddling his fingers nervously under the table. "Oh, um ... Yea." He mumbled a reply, unable to meet Pete's curious gaze. Sensing a follow-up question, he attempted to change the topic. "Aren't you cold? Y'know coz --" He broke off, flushing hotly when his eyes drifted to the perfect curve of Pete's collarbones; there was that oddly hot swirling feeling in his gut, the very same sensation he felt when he saw the older boy shirtless. He forced his gaze back on to Pete's eyes with some effort and noted the color of those irises, detachedly noting that they looked more like the rich amber color of whiskey than light brown like he had thought.

Pete glanced down at himself without much interest. "Coz I just got out of the pool and I'm sitting in an air-conditioned area? Nah, I dried myself properly so I don't think I'll be catching a cold." He said nonchalantly. "I'm more worried that one of the staff will tell me off for sitting on their chairs while my swimming trunks are still wet."

"You didn't change?" Patrick was astonished by how thick-skinned this boy could be.

"Eh, no. I'm just here to grab a snack - love their quiches by the way. You should try some." Pete suggested with an encouraging smile, which made it all the more harder for Patrick to suspect him. He could feel his resolve to keep Pete at an arm's length of distance when he talked about various types of pastries he tried and how he loved eating the tarts the Wentz chef baked on weekends.

"I have a question." Patrick stated softly and Pete's opinion of homemade biscuits ceased. When Pete showed interest, he steeled himself to speak out his inquiry; obviously, subtlety was the key because he didn't want Pete to know he had been eavesdropping yet the words that tumbled out told what he was feeling. "Am I a snob?"

It wasn't how he had planned to say it but if anything Pete didn't seem to have put two and two together. Instead, a half-worried scowl formed on his features, turning his lips down at the sides and creasing his brow as he glanced sideways out the window. "Let me guess: somebody from my family said it to you." He tutted under his breath.

Patrick was almost leaning in keenly although he managed to remain in his cool, indifferent composure - quite an effort considering he was never really good at acting. "Actually, I heard it." He said and held his breath at the end, bracing for impact.

The dramatic reaction he had been expecting from Pete didn't happen, instead the scowl on the boy's face intensified. "Was it Andrew?" He asked. "Or Hilary - no, my sister doesn't stoop  _that_  low so it's probably Andrew." He said with conviction.

"But --"

"Oh no. Don't you listen to him." Pete cut him off with a disapproving shake of his head. "He's the snob here."

Patrick wasn't sure what to make of that, wondering if he had been suspecting wrong and bitten off more than he had bargained for. This, of course, cheered him up a little at the prospect that he'd been listening in at the wrong time.

But Pete was on a roll. "You see, he's been acting like he has a stick up his ass ever since he came back from his gap year to stay with us last Thursday. And since Dad's told us we'd be meeting with you and Patricia today, he said, like, a lot of mean stuff about you - I'm not gonna get into specific details - but yea, if anyone's a snob, royal douche or whatever, it's gotta be him."

Patrick made some sort of understanding noise at the back of the throat when Pete was finished when another question wriggled itself past his lips. "So, am I a snob?"

Pete's jaw dropped with utter incredulity. "What? Pfft don't be ridiculous, Rickster." He snorted, giving Patrick yet another silly pet-name. He paused to fiddle with a bracelet on his wrist before looking up with a grin. "I like you."

These three words gave Patrick a mini heart-attack and he practically goggled at Pete, not believing what the boy had just said. An unexpected warmth inflated under his chest and his cheeks heated up. "Y-You do?" He said, faint tone carrying the weight of astonishment.

Pete nodded, lips curving upwards at the corner. "I mean, yea. What's not to like? I know we're both hanging out because of our parents and you could be hating me for being annoying, talkative and very direct with every valid reason but so far, I think you've been really patient and nice." He said, making Patrick feel strangely flattered and warm all over.

"Not to mention, you didn't walk out on me the first time we hung out when I said a couple of mean things about your taste in stuff and even agreed to play video games with me after that." The dark-haired boy added, this time in a quieter and sheepish tone. "I really appreciate that, Patrick."

This, Patrick decided, could not be an act because he could tell from the way Pete had said all those his voice spoke with sincerity - an act, no matter how practised and rehearsed, couldn't match with that. And it was like Pete didn't need to try because he had once again made Patrick smile effortlessly.

"You're welcome." The strawberry blond replied, the earlier tension of suspicion leaving him to make way for a new sense of ease around this member of the Wentz family.

And those amber eyes of Pete's lit up, perhaps even more than the sunlight that danced off them.

*

Patrick was starting to find the country club a bit more bearable now that he knew he wasn't the snob Pete was referring to earlier. He was waiting a little away from the older boy who was watching an elderly couple play an intense game of ping-pong in the rec area they had stumbled upon.

As it reminded him too much of his botched attempt of winning tennis earlier,  Patrick observed Pete instead, noting the way the the darker-haired boy's features alternated between excitement and suspense while his eyes followed the movement of the ball with full attention.

It's like looking at a puppy watching a butterfly, Patrick thought in amusement as Pete tensed up when the elderly woman missed the ball, letting her husband win in the process. When the game between the couple was over, Pete grinned at him and commented, "What a game."

The younger boy hadn't been paying attention but nodded along. "They were evenly matched," was the best thing he could say about it; fortunately Pete agreed and added in about how the two had really good reflexes at such a ripe age when both their phones released the same ding.

Both of them frowned at the same time, reaching into their pockets to check their notifications. Clicking the phone from sleep mode, the screen greeted Patrick by illuminating with a text from his mother.

 _Please meet us @ the front desk_ , it read.

He typed back a quick reply of acknowledgement when his finger hoverer over the  _Send_  button. Us? No doubt she's referring to her and Lewis, he thought with an uneasy prickle of anticipation. He glanced at Pete, expecting to find his own expression mirrored in his features but found that Pete was frowning contemplatingly at his phone.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked.

"Dank memes." Pete replied cryptically and pocketed his phone. "Anyway, I've gotta get going. Dad wants me at the front desk."

"Same here; Mom just texted me."

The same pensive expression crossed Pete's features but before Patrick could ask what was wrong again, he was leaving rec area. The younger boy hurried to follow him and they both made their way back to the front desk. There, the other Wentz family members and Patricia had already gathered there; for a moment, Patrick thought he caught Andrew's sneer when he arrived but when he looked at Pete's brother he appeared bored - perhaps it was the wariness he felt that was playing tricks on his mind.

Patricia was smiling at her son as she said brightly, "I see you and Pete are getting along."

Patrick shrugged, glancing over at the Wentz family who stood a little away from them. He saw that thoughtful look on Pete's face once more as Lewis spoke to all of them with an earnest expression. "You could say that." He hummed and turned to face his mother. "Mom, have you been crying?" He asked, alarmed, when he noticed how watery her blue eyes were.

Patricia gave a gentle laugh, patting his hair. "It's been wonderful being here today with Lewis and his kids." She said, smiling in her beloved's direction. "You see, Lewis proposed to me earlier and we were so excited to tell you kids."

Patrick's jaw dropped with utter disbelief as he stared up at his mother's face, trying to see if this was real or not. Even if he had always seen it coming ever since he was aware of the way she spoke about Lewis when she told him they were both very serious about their relationship but the blow of the news still rippled shock down his body. He backed a step, speechless for a few heartbeats as he struggled to say something. " _What?_ "

This wasn't the reaction Patricia was expecting and he noticed that her elated smile was faltering as disappointment began to cloud over her eyes. Panicked, Patrick mustered up the biggest grin he could wear, which hurt his cheeks, and forced what he hoped was a convincing laugh. "Mom, this is great!" He said in a faux-cheery tone, even though he was screaming internally.

The smile returned to her features but it didn't make Patrick feel any better, instead it intensified the sinking sensation he was getting in his chest that was reminiscent of a black hole sucking up galaxies. He was lightheaded and disoriented inside as Patricia babbled something in agreement and herded him over to join with the Wentz family. If anything, only Hilary mirrored the very same fake smile as Patrick while Andrew, no longer keeping up his facade, was glaring at the strawberry blond with displeasure.

And Pete? Well, Pete seemed thrilled now that he knew he would soon be having Patrick as his stepbrother but all the other boy felt was numbing disbelief.

He didn't exactly feel ready and a terrifying image of both he and Pete wearing ugly sweaters and calling each other 'brother' didn't make things any better in his head.


	10. 0.8

Patrick had spent the whole day hiding in his room, thinking about how his world had flipped over when Patricia announced her engagement with Lewis. As his eyes skimmed the webpage about the history of the band that Pete mentioned the other day,  _Fall Down Guy_ , his mind recalled how his soon-to-be stepsiblings had looked at him.

Pete's eyes had gleamed with excitement, Andrew's gaze haf regarded him condescendingly and Hilary had stared at him like he was a strange specimen at a zoo. This gave him some indication that he would not be welcomed into the family wholly. Not that he was concerned with making them like him but Patrick remembered something that Pete had said about his siblings and fought back a shudder.

Drawing his mind away from his current train of thought, he stared at the picture of  _Fall Down Guy's_  current members and frowned at the frontman, Philip Branch, with confusion. He had listened to their songs beforehand and the frontman's vocals sounded rather angsty. But the same can't be said for Philip's appearance as he seemed more like he was on his way to a book club and less like a man who wanted to yell and smash guitars in people's faces.

The other band members looked as if they did fit with the music they were making, what with the tattoos and hairstyles although Patrick found it comical that the lead guitarist looked almost like his butler Joe. A soft knock on his door brought him back to the present as he turned in his chair.

"Yea?" He called out, getting up.

"You have a visitor, sir." Joe's voice informed from the other side door. The strawberry blond frowned  warily as he wasn't used to people coming to visit him - well, that was because he never gave his address, even to his best friends - and checked the time; it was four in the afternoon. Twisting the doorknob, he opened the door to find his butler behind.

"Really?" He asked before Joe could say anything. "Who?"

The butler was about to reply when a voice floated down the hallway, echoing off the walls. "Sorry, I know I'm supposed to wait downstairs but the bathroom is occupied and I really need to --" The owner broke off when he neared Joe and Patrick, grinning at younger boy. "Hi there!"

"Pete." Patrick said by way of greeting before he stopped short, only remembering that he was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants only while the older boy was clad in a black t-shirt with matching jeans and makeup. Suddenly he felt self-conscious but Pete didn't seem to mind the lazy Sunday attire.

Instead, the dark-haired boy turned to Joe. "Sorry but I  _really_  need to  _go_. Is there a bathroom --"

"You can use mine." The words came out immediately from Patrick's mouth without even sparing a moment to be processed by his brain. "I have one in my room." He continued and Pete looked grateful that he didn't have to search high and low to relieve himself. Patrick moved aside to let him in, glancing over his shoulder as the other boy made a beeline for the bathroom.

"Would you like me to bring you two something to snack on?" Joe asked.

Patrick thought about it. "Did Hayley bake any of her cookies today?" He asked and the butler nodded. Thinking that Pete would love to try some the household chef's special biscuits, he requested Joe to get some for them and returned inside his room. Not at all sure if he should change his clothes or try to do some last-minute tidying, he went back to his laptop when Pete emerged from the bathroom with a relieved expression.

"I like the hand-soap you have in there." Pete said before Patrick could speak, jabbing a thumb behind him. "It smells good."

"Thank you." Patrick responded, wondering if this was one of the other boy's strange prompts to start a conversation. "Mom thought I'd like it." He added, though not entirely sure why he brought that up and swiveled his chair around so he could face Pete. With an amused smirk, Patrick noticed him sniffing his hands with a satisfied smile on his face. "You really like the smell, don't you?"

"It's amazing. Like I don't care if it's what guys would call girly but damn the flower scent is irresistible." Pete said with a laugh when his eyes widened abruptly. Patrick was worried something happened and started forward when Pete made an excited half-shriek and broke into a huge smile, pointing at the strawberry blond's laptop.

Patrick barely had time to glance back like he was afraid there was something scary behind him only to find the picture of Fall Down Guy's bassist, Pierre Walter, and Philip Branch smiling from the laptop screen when Pete rushed up beside Patrick.

"So you were reading about them?" The older guy asked like an excited child.

"I was curious." Patrick shrugged and glanced back at the band members. "Are they, like, married or something?" He inquired because the two men onscreen were both dressed in white, looking radiant - or was it because of the lighting?

Pete made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a sob. "I wish they were. They're pretty cute but Philip is mildly uncomfortable when Pierril is mentioned while Pierre finds it adorable. I suspect it's because he did have a crush on Pierre back then but then it wasn't the right time because Pierre had some issues in the past. But they're all good now and they've got families of their own." Pete glanced at Patrick with a sheepish expression. "I hope I didn't scare you away."

"Why?"

Pete's face reddened slightly. "Nothing. Anyway, fun fact: this picture was taken on the set of their post-hiatus music-video series, Youngblood Chronicles." Then his features lit up as he thought of something. "Do you mind if we watch it together?"

Patrick frowned. "Watch what?"

"The Youngblood Chronicles. It's about fifty minutes long." Pete replied and he was looking at Patrick with wide hopeful eyes that even Patrick faltered and gave in. The older boy clapped his hands excitedly when Joe knocked before entering the room and placed a tray with a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk on Patrick's desk.

Pete suggested they sit on Patrick's couch to watch the video. Patrick was a little awkward the whole time as he allowed himself about two inches of space between him and Pete when he placed a cloth on their thighs before putting the laptop, sitting rigidly while Pete searched for the video.

"We'll watch the uncut longform one because looking for the other videos by order will be difficult." Pete informed as he clicked on the link while Patrick made an acknowledging noise. The video started off with the introduction of the characters and Patrick was a little freaked out to find a lady with all-black eyes as one of them.

Then the song Phoenix started and Patrick's curiosity was piqued when the scene started with the band peering at the unknown contents of a suitcase. "What's in it?" He asked.

Pete smirked and answered mysteriously, "You'll find out soon."

With a sigh, he continued to watch, right up until the point when Philip was kidnapped and tortured. He had to admit he was a bit disturbed when the women chopped Philip's hand off. Even Pete squirmed a little seeing the severed hand being placed in a plastic bag and sent to Pierre's house. When the song ended, Patrick asked, "So is the falcon working for the bad ladies or what?"

Pete shook his head. "Watch on to find out." He replied with a wink and Patrick sighed again.

"But could you at least tell me why Pierre looked so unfazed seeing Philip's bloodied hand in a plastic bag?"

"I honestly have no idea ..." Pete mumbled as the next scene for the song, Young Volcanoes, started.

*

After finishing the Youngblood Chronicles with Pete, Patrick had to admit that he did enjoy watching the series with the older boy. Even though there were a few questionable scenes in the video, overall, Patrick loved it. The parts that got him the most was when Pierre tried to give Philip a metal hook to replace his severed hand, when each FDG member struggled from their injuries before finding each other and the willingness of Pierre to get the suitcase even if he was risking his life but he had shed a few happy tears when Philip met his friends in Heaven.

Pete offered him a tissue before asking, "So, what do you think?"

Patrick paused to think about it. "I love the songs, the whole plot and - Wow, it was just amazing."

Pete was grinning widely now like he was happy. "Really?" He asked to make sure and when Patrick nodded, he let out a laugh. "I'm glad you liked it." He added, nodding.

Patrick glanced at the wall clock when he remembered what he had wanted to ask Pete before. Straightening up in his seat, he said, "I hope you don't mind if I ask but why did you come to visit me?"

Pete bit his lip and fiddled with the bracelets he wore on his left wrist thoughtfully. "I thought it'd be fun if I came over to hang out with you." Upon seeing Patrick's mildly suppressed look of disbelief, he explained further. "Not that I'm being stalkerish or nosy at all but you seem pretty lonely most of the time, even when you're hanging out with your friends. And I figured you were lonelier at home without any siblings - not that I'm saying they're fun. Mine are just douches - I thought I'd come over to keep you company."

Patrick felt oddly flattered that Pete had been thinking of him that way. He wanted to say "That's nice of you," but somehow it didn't feel sufficient so the younger boy took a breath before he spoke. "Yea. It gets a little quiet at home, really. But I'm glad you came over." He smiled at the dark-haired boy. "It was nice hanging out with you."

Pete's eyebrows shot up like he was surprised but forced it back down when he tried to form a casual expression. He let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Cool." He mumbled, nodding when he reached for the last chocolate-chip and peanut butter cookie and ate it. "So, do you mind if I stay for a bit longer?" He regarded him entreatingly.

With those wide, dark amber eyes looking at him that way, Patrick found it impossible to say no. And besides, Pete wasn't really that bad of a company as he had once thought. Perhaps he should give his soon-to-be stepsibling a chance; anyway, if there was anybody in the Wentz household he'd have to befriend, Patrick would choose Pete.

"Of course not, Pete. I wouldn't mind if you do."

 


	11. 0.9

Patrick frowned at the polaroid photos of Lewis in his hand, looking carefully at each of them. He was lying on his back atop his mattress, legs dangling over the edge. Next to him just in his reach was sat a dusty box full of old family pictures that had been retrieved from a dark corner of his closet.

After Pete had left earlier this evening, Patrick remembered that he had been planning to look through the pictures he had taken at the country club that Saturday. They had been folded neatly in between the folds of a towel he didn't use and as he took them out, his stomach tightened involuntarily at the one photo of Patricia and Lewis. While the majority of the polaroids were of Lewis, in the locker room, there were some Patrick had snapped when his mother and Pete's father didn't notice.

He sat up, rubbing his tired eyes before checking the time. It was still early as his alarm clock on his nightstand displayed  _19_ _:46_  in bright red digits. He was reluctant to go to sleep as he had finished his dinner not long ago, not wanting to cause any form of indigestion in his system. Stifling a yawn, he set the polaroids down and looked at the dusty box beside him. Now that the image of Lewis was still clear in his head he opened up the box, coughing when some of the dust was inhaled, before he took out pictures of David.

For good measure, he placed one of them, a close-up of his father caught in mid-laugh watching Patrick play in the garden, next to the polaroid photo of Lewis, who was also caught in mid-laugh with Pete. Although there were a few distinctive similarities between the two men such as the crinkles near the eyes and the way their huge smiles lit up their whole feature, the differences in their appearances stood out more to Patrick.

Where David was strawberry blond, Lewis had dark brown hair that looked almost black in the light. Where Patrick's father was tall, Pete's father was of average height. Where David had a squarish face, Lewis' was oblong. He would've went on and on picking out the differences if his phone hadn't released a notification ding that brought him back to the present. Rolling onto his side, he checked it and found a text from Jon asking if he had finished his Physics homework.

With an amused frown, he sent a reply to his best friend before glancing back at his mattress. Suddenly, he was aware that he felt thirsty so he slid off his bed and went downstairs.

As the family chef, Hayley, wasn't present in the kitchen, Patrick snuck a few bites of cookies and drank a glass of water. He was filling up another glass of water to take back to his room when someone else walked into the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are." The boy turned to find his mother.

"Hey Mom." Patrick greeted, giving Patricia a hug. "You're home early today." He observed, knowing that weekends were usually the busiest for his mother, who ran a hotel business.

Patricia waved it off dismissively. "Oh, I left it to my manager. Anyway, Joe said Pete came to visit you today. How did it go?" She asked.

He could see that she was anxious to know, as she had been after the country club, if he was getting along well with the Wentz siblings. Of course, she had a right to be concerned with this matter but Patrick wished she wouldn't sound like she expected that he and Pete were two different strangers forced to get to know each other on impromptu. Suppressing the urge to show his annoyance, he said, "It was alright. We listened to music and watched a couple of videos by a band he likes."

She smiled proudly at him, which he felt was a little unnecessary. "That's great!" She clasped her hands. "It's good to know that you two are getting along well." Patrick wanted to point out that he and Pete were just fine and she was saying that for what felt like the hundredth time before she continued, "When are you going to hang out with the others? Andrew and Hilary? You've met them yesterday."

"Yes, I know their names." He replied with a sigh. Thinking about Andrew made him feel nervous and remembering what Pete had said about his sister, Patrick wasn't sure if he was looking forward to socializing with them. He knew he should be giving them a chance anyway, because they were going to be his stepsiblings but he trusted Pete's words and found it hard to imagine himself enjoying a movie with the other Wentz siblings.

Apparently, Patricia was saying the same thing because she said, "Why don't you watch a movie with them? Kids these days love movies, don't they?"

He wanted to pretend he didn't hear her but it was hard to do that so he gave a nonchalant shrug instead, wishing he could teleport over to his room. "I don't know." He mumbled, cracking under his mother's expectant gaze. Because he didn't want to let her down, he gave in. "I could ask them if I see them."

"Don't you have their numbers?" She inquired, looking astonished. "I'm sure they have phones, don't they?"

Patrick's lips pressed together into a thin line, averting his eyes from hers for the fear that she'd know he'd purposely not asked their numbers directly or indirectly because he wasn't sure how he felt about them. He shrugged once more. "I'll ask Pete." He said before he fled the kitchen when his mother wasn't looking.

*

"How  _bad_  can it be hanging out with Pete's siblings?" Jon asked aloud with a baffled expression.

"Shh! Keep it down." Patrick hissed, kicking his friend's shin from under the table as the two ducked their heads to pretend they were paying attention to the rather mind-numbingly boring film about numbers when the teacher glared in their general direction.

"I would like to repeat my question again but I'd prefer if my leg didn't sport one more bruise." Jon gave Patrick an indignant stink-eye. "I like my legs, thank you very much."

The strawberry blond mumbled an apology before he answered his friend's questions. "I don't know. Pete doesn't seem to like them."

Jon let out an incredulous snort, shaking his head. "Well, you have no idea how annoying siblings can be. Take me for example. I've got like three other kid-monkeys I have to look after at home and can you imagine what it's like every morning having cereal only to have the peacefulness ruined by little kids running around naked? Yea." He said, giving Patrick a rather unpleasant mental image.

"No, I mean, not like that." The strawberry blond's brow furrowed as he tried to think of a way to describe it to Jon, who didn't seem to be taking him seriously - well, he never took  _anything_  seriously. "Hilary didn't seem to like me that much and I think Andrew hates me."

"Don't be silly." Jon laughed and pinched Patrick's cheeks. "Who could hate a cinnamon roll like you?" He cooed, much to the other boy's protests. "Look at you. You're such a cute little squishycake."

"Mr Walker and Mr Stump!" The teacher called out from the front and the two boys started in their seats. "I have had it with ignoring the both of you but really, could you two pay attention to the film instead of gossiping like housewives at the back? I expect the two of you to see me after class." With one last admonishing glare for good measure, the teacher left them alone.

As it turned out, they were handed detention slips before being sent off to their next lesson. Jon was muttering angrily under his breath about how unfair it was that they were caught when there were these other girls from the same class that were chattering louder than them. Because when Patrick's lighthearted friend's mood turned rotten, it was always best if one kept quiet and make vague noises of agreement while Jon complained.

Once Jon was off on his way to Biology, Patrick went to Chemistry. He met with Elisa Yao, his lab partner, who was a bright girl with curls that were always tied in a ponytail. The dark-haired girl was asking him whether he had revised the night before - the idea of pop quizzes always made Elisa awfully anxious - and Patrick was telling her that their teacher wouldn't be as cruel as Professor Snape from the Harry Potter series to actually start testing them so early in the semester when somebody gave his shoulder a hard shove.

He staggered for a moment before righting himself and whirled laround to see who had done it. There were a group of obnoxious boys snickering at him over their shoulders and making rude comments. Determined not to let a bunch of obnoxious people bother him, he narrowed his eyes at their retreating backs before telling Elisa that they'd better hurry up otherwise they'd be late.

The rest of the lessons at school dripped by slowly and by the time Patrick had sat through a rather boring History lecture, he had almost fallen asleep. Picking his bag up from the floor, he stifled a yawn as he exited of the classroom, nearly bumping into a couple of people on the way out. The hallways were starting to clog up with the increasing number of students making their way out during dismissal.

As he had detention to attend to, he ducked into the space by the drinking fountain and took his phone out. As he was sending a text to Joe, his eyes was distracted by a flicker of movement across him. With a frown, he glanced up to see what it was, finding Pete. Almost immediately, a smile appeared on Patrick's face before it was replaced with a baffled expression when he noticed the same group of boys from earlier following closely behind.

From the way they were walking with those intent gazes and tense shoulders, Patrick was certain they were up to something. His nerves twisted with worry because Pete didn't seem to have noticed them stalking after him as he entered the restroom. Making a split-second decision, he shoved his phone down in his pocket, his text to Joe unsent, and began to go after Pete.

It was like traveling against the current as everyone was moving in the direction opposite to Patrick's. He hadn't mastered the art so he ended up receiving glares from others for stepping on their toes by accident. His throat was closing up and his heart pounded in his chest with worry as he doubled his efforts, shouldering his way through.

As he was about to reach the door to the restrooms, he was waylaid by Mikey, who decided to pop up out of nowhere. Patrick almost crashed into the taller boy but backed a step before he could knock into Mikey's chest.

His mind had split into two levels: trying to pay attention to what Mikey was saying and worrying if the boys were going to do something funny to Pete.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm busy right now." He cut his friend off in midsentence with a barely suppressed snap of irritance.

Mikey's eyes rounded. "What? But, Patrick --"

Patrick shot him an apologetic look before squeezing past him. His hands flew onto the doorknob and he gave it a twist, only to have it resisting him. His breath caught in his throat as he jiggled with the doorknob frantically. From inside, he could hear voices, a few were saying threats while one sounded like it was trying to reason with the others.

Anxiety was mixing in with the bubbling worry in Patrick's chest. "Pete?" He called, banging his palm on the door. "Pete, are you --"

Before he could finish, the door was yanked open and Patrick stumbled forwards before he was dragged inside by rough hands. He let out a terrified yelp but was shoved hard against the wall. Pain erupted on his left shoulder, stunning him for a moment before he heard the door slam shut. Wincing, he opened his dazed eyes to find one of the boys, the one with cruel gray eyes, frowning him like a foreign specimen.

Afraid, Patrick tried to back away but only succeeded in flattening himself up the wall. Past Gray-Eyes's shoulder was Pete, being held back by two other boys. Patrick's heart squeezed painfully in his chest when he realized Pete's lip was bleeding and there was a red mark on his cheek.

"Leave him out of this!" Pete's voice rose frantically. He was struggling to wriggle his arms free but the boy on his left punched his abdomen. Pete doubled over with a gasp of pain, and Patrick felt a stab of helplessness. "For God's sake, Leon! Don't drag him into this!"

Gray-eyes, or Leon, raised his eyebrows as he turned his gaze back to the strawberry blond who was staring up at him. "Pete here seems to care about you." He chuckled, the sound sending shivers up Patrick's spine.

Patrick was shaking like a leaf but he met the boy's eyes defiantly. "Please don't hurt Pete." His voice was steely calm.

Leon let out a short derisive laugh, to which his cronies responded sycophantically with the same hyena-like sounds. Then he slammed his hand on the wall, narrowly missing Patrick's face before he leaned in. "You don't tell me what to do, kid." He growled.

Patrick had never wanted to crawl out of his skin and run out of here. Adrenaline pulsated in his veins, fueling him with the urge to punch this guy in the face. But he stayed his hand, staring straight at Pete. "What did he ever do to you?"

"What did - You have  _no idea_." Leon scoffed before grabbing Patrick by the shirtfront.  
Patrick was choking because Leon was gripping his collar tightly that his own shirt was cutting off his breath. His hands flew to Leon's, trying to pry the boy's fingers off him.

"Patrick!" Pete let out a cry and tried to move to Patrick but was punched once again.

Leon's eyebrows arched. "Patrick? Surely, you don't mean Patrick Stump!" He grinned and shoved Patrick back. The younger boy's head knocked hard against the wall and he let out a pained yelp. "Oh, so this must be your soon-to-be-stepsibling, right? How precious."

Pete was snarling something but Patrick was too dazed to make out the words from the pain when he was grabbed once again, forced forward before something gripped him by the back of his head and pushed him down into water.

 


	12. 1.0

A violent fit of coughs racked Patrick's body as it fought to rid its system of water. The vein on his throat throbbed with each expulsion of air, his hand gripping Pete's wrist tightly. Pete was patting his back, hard, to aid him in the process but it made his back sting so Patrick had to tell him to stop.

His hair was dripping wet from being dunked headfirst into the toilet a couple of times before Leon and his gang were satisfied with what they had been doing and left both Pete and Patrick alone. The younger boy was still feeling lightheaded from the earlier lack of oxygen and nearly slipped on the floor as he got up.

"You're holding me too hard." Patrick winced at the way Pete's hand had squeezed his arm in efforts to right his balance. Not only did that hurt, but so did his scalp where Leon has fisted his hair and the back of his neck when he strained to resist the bully's attempts to push his head into the toilet bowl.

Pete released Patrick, mumbling an apology with an immensely guilty look as Patrick sucked in a breath and shut his eyes. "Oh, Patrick. I-I didn't mean to drag you into all this." His voice shook unevenly as he removed his jacket and placed it on Patrick's head like a makeshift towel. "I"m so sorry."

Patrick was too dazed to even reply, instead he tried to focus on breathing properly so the world would stop feeling like it's spinning all around him. Pete's hands was working on his head, trying to dry his hair. "Pete, stop." He opened his eyes to find Pete looking very conflicted and remorseful. With a sigh, Patrick tugged Pete's jacket from his head. "What was all that about?" He asked calmly. "Why did that Leon guy and his friends hurt you? What did you do to them?"

Despite what Pete thought, he wasn't angry with him rather he was concerned for Pete more than himself. Up close, Patrick noticed that Pete had a split lip that was still bleeding a bit and sported a few bruises on his face. His heart squeezed in his chest when he placed a hand on a purpling area near the base of Pete's jaw and caused him to wince in the slightest.

Pete's cheeks flushed red as the dark-haired boy averted his gaze away from Patrick's. "They don't like me a lot. It's ... complicated." He added and insecurity flashed in his dark amber eyes. "I'll probably explain it to you some other time when I'm ready to." He said in a much quieter voice.

Patrick's heart throbbed with a dull ache. Curiosity was gnawing him to find out what Pete wanted to say but he restrained himself from saying anything as the two boys exited the stall. He washed his face, ridding his skin of the nasty sensation that made him feel dirty when he glanced in the mirror. While he should've been more concerned for himself, his eyes moved over to look at Pete's features. There was that tight squeeze in his chest again from seeing Pete's injuries.

Pete didn't notice him staring, of course, because he was more preoccupied with touching his split lip.

Patrick shook his head and gently pulled Pete's hand away. "You'll make it bleed even more. Just leave it be."

Pete hesitated then nodded. "Dad's so gonna kill me if sees all these." He laughed bitterly at his own reflection. "Yikes."

Patrick was about to say something to him when he remembered he still had detention to attend to. "Holy smokes!" He exclaimed and felt his mouth dry up when he checked his wristwatch only to find that he was at least ten minutes late. Panicked, he tried to come up with an excuse for himself.

Pete, picking up on his distress, frowned at him. "What's wrong now?"

"I'm late for detention and I can't think of something to explain my tardiness or this!" Patrick pointed at his damp hair.

"You got into detention?" The dark-haired boy echoed with disbelief. "A nice guy like you? For  _what_?"

"For talking in class." He replied, flushing.

To his surprise, Pete laughed in amusement; the smile on his face appeared to brighten up his features.

"It's  _true_." Patrick's cheeks burned indignantly. "Jon and I were talking too much."

"So ditch it."

Patrick wasn't certain if he had heard Pete right and was staring at him with his lips parted incredulously. " _What?_ "

"Ditch detention." Pete repeated coolly like he was suggesting that they had ice-cream after this. He chuckled when Patrick blinked rapidly at him. "It's totally fine. I've done it a lot of times and I  _never_  get into trouble for it." He added as though that statement could help to reduce the younger boy's inflating worry.

"And  _exactly_  how many times have you skipped detention without suffering the consequences?" Patrick questioned him dubiously, frowning.

"More times than the total of your fingers and toes." Pete smirked. "C'mon. It's no big deal. Besides, the teacher-in-charge never takes the attendance - bless him - so you won't get into any more trouble than you already are." His tone had a kind of magnetic pull that made the younger boy want to believe him; but how could he take his word when Patrick knew better than to do such a thing.

Because of this situation, he was reminded of why he wanted to keep his distance from Pete: it was specifically because the boy had a history of getting into trouble in the past years, even though he was managing to keep his record clean this year. Patrick stared at him for a few heartbeats, conflicted between the choices between owning up to his mistakes in detention or making this escape that could possibly land him into hot water. He inhaled, glaring hard at the older boy for good measure before pointing at him.

"I'll have you know that I don't really know you  _that_  well." Patrick said in the firmest voice he could muster and the most serious expression he could wear. "But I'm trusting you enough to believe your words." He finished and met Pete's eyes. A moment passed. Then another. Until he caught the glimmer in those rich amber eyes and bit his lip hard in efforts to suppress his smile. "I'm  _not joking_ , Pete!" His mouth quirked up at the sides.

Pete burst into a fit of laughter, his head tilting back. "Of course I know that! But you looked so adorable saying all those stuff with that face."

Patrick flushed sheepishly but a grin broke through his initial embarrassment. Shaking his head, he nudged Pete and the older boy gave him a clap on the shoulder before slinging his arm around him in a brotherly gesture. "It'll be alright, Sophomore Stump. Scout's honor!" He held up a hand, wearing an earnest look on his face. It was especially comical as Pete's eyeliner was running.

Patrick laughed, wriggling away from Pete when someone entered the restroom, casting them both strange looks they didn't notice.

*

"Oh no, it's totally alright Joe." Patrick replied to his butler on the phone. Apparently he was still stuck in a particularly long checkout lane at the supermarket so he couldn't pick Patrick up on time. Nevertheless, the strawberry blond told him that Pete would be sending him home. "Yea, I'll be okay." He nodded, glancing at Pete who was bobbing his head to the music playing in his car. "Bye, Joe."

Hanging up the call, he pocketed his phone before joining the older boy in the vehicle, climbing into the shotgun seat. This time, he noticed that the interior was as clean as it had been the first time Patrick had sat here so he figured that Pete was a person of habit and preferred his ride to be clean. A song that Patrick had never heard of was playing on the stereo and Pete was doing an air guitar to it, bobbing his head.

Amused, Patrick broke into a grin and watched him for a bit longer before the track ended not long after. "What's the song called?" He asked when Pete shifted the gear.

"Hmm?" Pete made a vague noise. "Oh, that was  _Stab The Helmet_. What do you think?" He asked as he drove them out of the school's parking lot. A new song began to play and fortunately, this sounded less angsty than the previous one did.

Patrick shrugged. "It's heavy, for me." He said as an afterthought. "Were the screams necessary?" He questioned curiously.

"They are a must for post-hardcore music." Pete stated. "The lyrics are deep and emotional so sometimes the vocalizations are necessary to convey the message in the song. Get what I mean?"

"I guess. Yea." Patrick went back to looking out the window. The drive continued on in silence until they reached the driveway of Patrick's mansion. Pete's car pulled to a stop at the front door and Patrick was unbuckling his seatbelt when Pete killed the engine. Wearing a baffled frown, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting changed at your place." Pete said casually. "You should too. We're going to have ice-cream afterwards." Aware of the bewildered glare Patrick was giving him, the corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile. "Don't you like ice-cream? Or do you have, like, lactose intolerance?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well, if you do, then there's this awesome salad bar I --"

Patrick's face heated indignantly as he slung his backpack strap over his shoulder, stepping out of the vehicle. "I don't have lactose-intolerance. And yes, I do love ice- cream. It's just -  why would you want to have some after this?" He demanded, nonplussed.

Pete was coming round from the boot where he had produced a bag, presumably packed with extra clothes, and approached Patrick with a smug sort of smile on his face. "Because I can and I will. Not a single bad day will stop me from having ice-cream. Don't you worry. It's on me." He said and went up the steps leading to the front door, leaving the younger boy staring after him with disbelief.

The two entered the house when they were greeted by the housekeeper, Alexa, who was cleaning the windows down the hallway leading to the stairs. Then both Pete and Patrick went up to the younger boy's room. He offered Pete to go first but was declined.

"It's fine." Pete waved his hand dismissively as he set his bag on the floor by Patrick's couch. "You need it more than me. You smell a bit like toilet water." He added thoughtfully after leaning in an giving Patrick an unnecessary sniff.

The strawberry blond told Pete to wait and once he was sure that the older boy wouldn't go nosing around his belongings - he seemed to be preoccupied with playing a kendama that was lying nearby - and went to fetch a new set of clothes before occupying the bathroom. Divesting himself of his school uniform, he dropped them into the laundry basket and stepped into the shower.

It was a relief to feel the warm water washing his body off. He lathered some shampoo and scrubbed his hair for good measure, not wanting to still smell of toilet before he rinsed the suds off. Once he cleaned his face and his body, he got out of the shower and wrapped himself up in a warm fluffy towel. The mirror had misted up from the steam so he reached out and wiped the condensation off, revealing a clear reflection of himself.

Unintentionally, he began to think about today's earlier events as he dried off himself off and wore his clothes. As he wriggled into a pair of jeans, his mind drifted to the moment when he called Pete through the door; he remembered overhearing a conversation that wasn't immediately distinct although he recalled words such as sick, wrong and stay away. Not at all certain what those meant, he exhaled and regarded himself for a moment.

His damp strawberry blond hair lay flat on his head and there was a tiny bruise on his left cheekbone where he had knocked on the rim of the toilet in attempts to resist Leon's hand from pushing his head into the bowl. His gut stirred restlessly as he probed it experimentally, wincing when there was a sting. He could only wonder how Pete felt at the moment; after all, the older boy had sustained worse than he did, visibly bearing that split lip and visible bruising on a few areas of his face, not to mention that he had also been punched in the gut a few times.

His heart squeezed in his chest at the thought of anyone hurting Pete and there was that bitter knot of loathing towards Leon. While Patrick could've hated the bully for him, instead he was angrier that Leon for hurting Pete. Sure, Pete had been a troublemaker before but had he done anything to deserve such a thing from Leon and his cronies?

Traveling down that tangent, he recalled the words that he had heard past the locker door of the boys' restroom. Sick, wrong and stay away. If only he could recall more parts of that conversation, then perhaps he could piece together some sort of theory on why Pete didn't tell him the reason why the bullies picked on him. He found this idea inviting before he came to the realization that it wasn't very nice to suspect someone that way.

Shaking his head, he went out of the bathroom. He opened his mouth, about to tell Pete that he could use the shower now when he saw the older boy looking through things he shouldn't be.


	13. 1.1

Patrick went very stiff, staring at Pete who was at his bookshelf. "Pete?" He began, taking a step forward. His mouth had went dry at the sight of the older boy touching his things and he was doing his very best not to jump to conclusions. "Is that my family photo album you're looking at?"

Pete glanced over his shoulder and nodded before holding it up so the strawberry blond could see when Patrick strode over. "Is this you?" The older boy asked as he pointed at one of the pictures that had a baby in it, cocooned in light blue blankets.

Now, Patrick wasn't really embarrassed of how had he looked when he was a baby but somehow it was like having a complete stranger see him butt-naked in the open. He took the photo album away from Pete and frowned at him. "And why were you looking at my baby pictures?" He demanded calmly. "These are private, if you didn't already know."

Pete shrugged. "I got bored." Then he realized Patrick wasn't very pleased that he didn't ask his permission so he amended, "I'm sorry. I have a bad case of doing things before thinking. But I swear, no harm done to your albums! I was only curious." He admitted, wearing a contrite look in his amber-eyed gaze.

"You could've waited." Patrick frowned and snapped the album shut with one head. Shaking his head disapprovingly at the older boy, he continued, "Didn't your mother tell you it's rude to go prying into people's things?" He asked accusingly, narrowing his eyes at the dark-haired boy in annoyance.

It was the wrong thing to say because the sheepish look on Pete's features gave way to that of a pained one. The air seemed to have shifted, tension clouding the air between the two boys. Then his expression hardened when he met Patrick's gaze when he backed away and went straight for the bathroom without a word, leaving the dark mood to settle on the room.

Patrick hadn't meant to go as far as making Pete upset as he only wanted him to know that he didn't like having his belongings nosed into without his permission. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he started forward uncertainly before clutching the photo album tightly. Realization dawned on him as he was now the guilty person in the room. His nerves were twanging like a rubber band stretched to the point where it'd snap from the tension as he stared at the closed door.

Biting his lip, he set the book down on the edge of his bed and tried to keep his mind occupied by sifting through his homework from his schoolbag but all he could think of was how stupid he had been to verbally jab the only Wentz he liked.

While looking at his Chemistry notes, he was praying that Pete wasn't as offended as he looked when the other boy emerged from the bathroom. His hair, too, was damp and hung limply across his forehead. Besides that, he wasn't wearing anything save for a towel around his waist.

Patrick was distracted from the chemical formulas, eyes immediately drawn to Pete's bare upper body. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he observed the way muscles moved under Pete's olive skin from across the room when a foreign sort of longing twisted in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed and forced himself to look at Pete's face because he was startled to know that the other boy could have this sort of effect on him.

Pete was facing Patrick's direction as he picked up his clothes from his bag. He was stoically silent, something that unnerved Patrick as he had grown used to him making the conversation and not purposefully ignore him. When the quiet became too great for the blue-eyed boy to bear, he spoke, "I didn't mean to overreact that way."

Pete didn't answer, instead was pulling on a black t-shirt with a band logo on it.

"I'm sorry." Patrick added softly.

Pete let out a long sigh, tilting his head back. It was a long moment before he talked. "Patrick, you can say whatever shit you want to me when you're annoyed with me and I wouldn't be offended or whatever because I know it will usually my fault that I pissed you off  _unless_  it has anything to do with my mother." He said in the firmest voice Patrick had ever heard him speak in. "That's something you should never use against me. Got it?"

Slowly, Patrick nodded and bit his lip.

Pete regarded him for a heartbeat. "Glad we cleared that up." He said and picked up his clothes. He returned to the bathroom to put his pants on while he left Patrick. Soon he came back out. This time, he had already applied a fresh coat of eyeliner and cocked his head at the younger boy. "Are you still feeling bad?"

Patrick wanted to pretend he wasn't but seeing the concerned expression on the dark-haired boy's face made him feel even more conflicted on whether to shrug it off or to lie through his teeth. Instead, he looked at Pete's outstretched hand and held it, allowing Pete to help him up from the couch. He avoided catching Pete's gaze. "I'm fine."

"Nah." Pete said, patting his back. "You're not. But it's okay, Trick. I forgive you." He smiled gently at him before enveloping him into a hug. Patrick stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening, but after a second's hesitation he wrapped his arms around Pete and rested his cheek on the Pete's shoulder. There was something oddly comforting about being in Pete's arms, feeling the boy's heartbeat against his chest and the warmth radiating from his skin. Pete smelled of lavender, which was the result of using Patrick's soap, but Patrick liked it on him.

He felt the tension ebb away as the more he stayed in Pete's arms but all too soon, he felt the rumble of laughter from Pete's body.

"Okay, buddy." Pete drew back, looking at him with a smile on his face. "I thought you feel asleep in my arms." He joked, giving Patrick's cheek a light tap like he was trying to wake the younger boy from sleep.

Patrick's face warmed in embarrassment as he bit his lip and stepped back, letting out a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

"Oh, and another thing." Pete raised a finger before booping Patrick's nose playfully, resulting yet another blush from the strawberry blond. "You gotta stop apologizing so much. Seriously."

"Sor - Right." Patrick corrected himself hastily. He paused, biting his lip when Pete ruffled his hair affectionately and gestured for him to follow him before he left the room. Patrick stared after him for a moment then touched the tip of nose where Pete's finger had touched. A small smile played on his lips.

*

Pete was in a much better mood and was having his second helping of a rainbow-sprinkles covered chocolate ice-cream. Something Patrick observed was that Pete had a sweet tooth.

"Aren't you going to have some?" Pete asked in between bites of his treat, arching eyebrows. "It's on me; no need to be shy." He didn't notice that he had a bit of rainbow sprinkles on the corner of his mouth, which made it an especially comical sight for someone who was dressed in a uniform shade of black and wore a copious amount of eyeliner.

Patrick shook his head, waving off Pete's offer. "I'm good." He smiled politely and took a sip from the can of lemonade he had purchased earlier. The liquid fizzed in his mouth as he swallowed.

If anything, Pete didn't seem disappointed that Patrick declined and shrugged, scooping another spoonful of ice-cream. "More for me then." He said and attacked the cold dessert with delight.

Drawing his attention away from him, Patrick's gaze slid over to the parlor's window where he stared out idly, counting the cars that passed by the street. Curiosity was wringing his chest, demanding answers to why they had been bullied by Leon. The questions had been percolating in his head on the way here but he didn't want to ruin the mood; besides, he had just offended Pete awhile ago so there was no point risking the consequence of upsetting him once more on the same day.

What was it that Pete wanted to say? Why won't he tell Patrick? Why were they even at this ice-cream parlor?

"Mom thinks I should hang out with you and your siblings more." He said instead of voicing out the inquiries popping up all over in his thoughts. He turned to look at Pete who was now staring at the empty cup with content. Despite the seriousness in his tone, he couldn't help but feel a shift in the air and fought back a smile when he caught Pete's expression.

Pete, on the other hand, rolled his eyes when Patrick brought up the topic of his siblings. "No way, José." He frowned.

"I'm Patrick." The strawberry blond stated in confusion. "Not José."

"It's just a play on words." Pete explained. "Dad thinks so too. He's been asking Hilary, Andrew and I to ask you but we all know Andrew's a dick five hundred percent of the time and Hilary can be a bitch on any day that ends with  _y_." He said, not bothering to filter the profanities he spouted. A table away, a lady glared at them pointedly as if she didn't want potty-mouthed teenagers to spoil her seven year-old daughter's mind.

Patrick frowned. "Andrew, I get, but why Hilary?" It was something he never fully understood. While Pete had warned him one time that his sister was as much of a snob as Andrew was, he didn't really see it. Sure she had pretty much left him be when he and Patricia spent time with the Wentz family at the country club but she wasn't as mean as Andrew had been.

Pete sighed like he was tired of this question, even though Patrick hadn't asked him  _that_  many times to annoy him. "How's your PhotoShop skills?" He said, out-of-the-blue.

Patrick wore a baffled frown. "Nonexistent. Why?"

"I was actually thinking of suggesting that we hang out together instead and take a selfie before editing my siblings into the photo."

"Are they really  _that_  bad at home?" Patrick mused aloud.

A dark look crossed Pete's features, creasing his brow and turning the corners of his mouth downwards. "You'd know if you were me." He said so quietly, Patrick could've imagined it. Then he drew a breath and raked his fingers through his hair before he regarded the younger boy consideringly. "Okay, I  _could_  try to convince Hilary then maybe Andrew would feel left out - he has a bad case of FOMO - but the rest is up to you."

"Up to me?" Patrick echoed.

"Like where we're going to hang out and what we're going to do." Pete said. "What did Patricia suggest?" He asked curiously.

"The movies? I don't know. She thinks that spending about two hours in a dark theater to watch a film while keeping your mouth shut is a good way to socialize." Patrick shrugged, wrinkling his nose.

"That's a great idea. As long as we sit away from Andrew, the movie should be fine." He said, agreeing with Patricia's suggestion which surprised Patrick as Pete always seemed one for adventure. He stared out of the window thoughtfully.

There was a tingling in Patrick's fingers. If only he had his Polaroid with him, he'd take a picture of this moment. The way sunlight was playing on Pete's eyes, sparking the light brown into a brilliant shade of amber. And his eyes were drawn to the pensive look in Pete's gaze, the curve of his eyebrows, the line of his jaw ... Patrick thought he looked handsome.

Slowly, his hand crept into his pocket before he pulled out his phone. Casually, he held it up as he booted up the Camera app. Tapping the screen to focus on Pete, his finger hovered over the button before he pressed down. A loud snap followed when the picture was taken, giving Patrick a surprised start as he thought he had had his phone on mute. The sound had broken Pete out of his reverie and his brows furrowed at the younger boy, not in annoyance but in confusion.

"What - Did you just take a picture of me?" Pete sounded mildly astonished.

Patrick's face heated but he gave him a lighthearted smile. "For my Instagram. It was a good candid shot." He replied airily. "You looked great." Patrick wasn't lying when he said this.

Pete gave him a long look before his lips curled upwards at the sides. He didn't say anything though however, Patrick could tell from the way he had turned his head partly away to smile that he was pleased to receive the compliment.

But Pete didn't know that Patrick didn't actually own an Instagram account.


	14. 1.2

"Patrick, can I keep these?" Mikey asked the strawberry blond boy as he held up the Polaroids that Patrick was planning to show to the after-school photography club that they were both in. "These are great shots." He added.

Patrick leaned over, distracted from listening to the club president, Will Ferri, and glanced over to his friend beside him. "Oh. They're just pictures of flowers. Why would you want them?"

"Flowers are my aesthetic." The taller boy responded with a laugh. "Ooh, there's a cute little ladybug in this one." He pointed the photograph of a closeup of a rose. Patrick had taken a snap of it while he was talking to the landscaper, Mike Fuentes, the other day about the koi pond.

"Okay so I'm gonna start off our first meeting of the month by introducing myself and the officers." Will was saying, regarding the freshmen who were peering at him curiously. "I'm Will Ferri and I'm the club president. And if you don't already know, today's our first meeting for the Photography club."

Will gestured at the girl beside him. "Chrissy Costanza's the vice-president here, and ..." Then he continued to name off the rest of the club officers until they reached the last of them, Alex Babinski.

Afterwards, everybody else had to introduce themselves and say something about themselves. "I'm Meredith and I'm into grunge aesthetics." The girl beside Patrick said before sitting down; it was his turn.

Clearing his throat, he stood up and tried to ignore the weight of all the gazes on him. His hands shook a little so he clasped them together to hide the fact that he was awfully nervous. "I'm Patrick and I like Polaroids pictures." He said and sat down once he finished his sentence. Mikey was up next and then Dan began to encourage everyone to talk to each other while he and Chrissy discussed something in hushed tones, occasionally glancing at everyone else.

Patrick had risen from his seat and approached them shyly, clutching the Polaroid photographs in his hands. Even though he was familiar with Will and Chrissy having been in the same Math claas with them since freshmen year, he still felt nervous.

"What do you mean you don't have an assignment for them?" Chrissy demanded, glaring pointedly at Will.

He shrugged, looking apologetic. "The things is I got sidetracked - Oh, Patrick." It was only when the strawberry blond cleared his throat did Will come to the realization that he was standing there. "Didn't see you there! Is there something you wanted to ask?" He pushed his glasses up his nose, regarding Patrick curiously.

Patrick held out the Polaroids. "I thought these might help give you two some idea for our future club assignments." He replied, hoping that it didn't sound like he had just overheard their conversation. "I know, they're flowers --"

"These look pretty good." Chrissy commented, plucking one of the photographs from Will's hand. "Hey, we should ask the club to do this for this week's assignment." She suggested, elbowing her friend.

"Hmm." Will nodded his head, almost absentmindedly, before he jabbed his finger in the air. "I've got a better idea. We'll ask everybody to take a couple of shots of something they think is aesthetically pleasing." He announced and grinned at Patrick. "Thanks a bunch. You're a lifesaver."

After the club meeting, Patrick and Mikey were walking out with the rest of the club members and were discussing about what they'd be using as the subjects for their assignments when Patrick saw Pete waiting just outside the classroom. His heart skipped a beat, surprised, before he remembered that Pete was picking him up today.

"Hey there." The dark-haired boy greeted with a big smile at Patrick. He tucked his phone back in his pocket. "You must be Mikey." He added, turning to the blond boy beside Patrick who looked astonished that Pete knew his name at all.

Mikey's cheeks turned bright red as his gaze widened. "How did you know my name?" He asked, voice sounding unusually higher in pitch. Patrick faced him with an expression of curiosity, eyebrows furrowing.

"Your brother, Gerard." Pete said. "You look like him."

"Oh."

"Anyway, it was nice meeting you." Pete added, smirking. For some reason the way he did made Patrick's stomach tighten. Mikey had flushed even more, which made Patrick wonder what was going on. But before he could ponder, Mikey was excusing himself hastily and left after giving Patrick an almost inaudible goodbye. Both Pete and Patrick stared after him before the strawberry blond faced Pete.

"What was that?" He asked.

"What was what?" Pete was still staring after the direction Mikey had gone, wearing a distracted expression.

Patrick pressed his lips together in annoyance but shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go." He said and the two went to the parking lot to Pete's car. The ride was spent in silence, except for the older boy's music blaring through the stereo. The odd and pinched sensation in Patrick's stomach remained while he thought about Pete and Mikey's odd exchange; it refused to go away.

*

Pete had explained that it'd be better if they hung out with Andrew and Hilary at his place instead of spending money to watch a movie at the theater. When asked what his siblings' responses were, he simply gave Patrick silence, which wasn't assuring at all.

Since Joe was busy today, Patrick drove himself to the Wentz residence. On the way there, he decided to play a CD by  _Fall Down Guy_  that Pete had pleaded him to listen to. Apparently it was the band's debut album and Patrick was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the songs. Pulling up at the gate, he shifted the gear to neutral and texted Pete to let him know he had arrived. Almost immediately after the message was sent, the gate began to open, allowing Patrick to park his car inside.

Stepping out of his vehicle, he tried to shove down thd feeling of apprehension coiling under his ribcage like a snake. Pete appeared at the front steps; as Patrick had started getting used to the older boy giving him a bright smile whenever they met, he was surprised to find a badly suppressed expression of bitterness on Pete's face. His chest tightened at the sight and he picked up his pace.

"Hey, you okay there?" Patrick asked and noticed how tight with concern his voice sounded.

Pete's lips folded on each other into a white line. "Yea, just fine. Listen, why don't you go on inside? Andrew and Hilary should be in the movie room. Just ask my housekeeper for directions." He said in a clipped tone, averting his eyes away from Patrick's.

Guilt constricted around Patrick like a snake, even though he knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. Exhaling softly, he nodded and did as he was told when he paused at the door. After a moment's hesitation, he entered. The housekeeper, who was a stout woman by the name of Antonia, led him down the hallway to what he assumed was the movie room. She opened the door for him, and he gave her a smile of thanks when he entered. His heart, which had been stuck in his throat from the anxiety of meeting Pete's siblings, dropped back to the space under his ribcage with relief.

Despite what Pete had told him, Andrew and Hilary weren't present. This gave Patrick precious moments to collect himself. He sank down on a beige-colored couch, peering curiously at the large flat-screen tv that was mounted on the wall across him. Instead of standing speakers that a home surround system had (like the one back in Patrick's home), there was a soundbar instead that was right below the television. Now wondering where they placed the DVD systems, Patrick was getting up from the couch when the door opened.

It was Hilary entering the room. With a start, Patrick had just realized how much she looked like Pete, fashion-wise. Her hair had the same shade of black that Pete had, although hers had red streaks. She, too, wore t-shirts that had obscure logos on it and a pair of edgy-looking acid-bleached skinny jeans. Throw in the thick black eyeliner and the dark lipstick and you had Hilary.

Although where Pete's eyes would light up at the sight of Patrick, Hilary's wore a sort of interest one would associate with finding a particularly curious-looking animal. Patrick felt uncomfortable but he managed a smile, holding out his hand. "Hey, it's Patrick."

She glanced at his outstretched hand then back at him. "Yea. I remember you." She said in a bored tone and his hand dropped as quickly as his confidence had. She eyed him up and down, like she was assessing him from his appearance before she sighed. "So, lemme guess. You're here because Patricia asked you to hang out with us?"

"Um, yea. Mom thought it'd be a good idea if we all hung out- y'know so we could all be closer and all. Did Pete inform you?" Nervousness was nipping away at him the longer she stared at Patrick that way. As a result, he began to ramble. "Because if he didn't then I'm so sorry you had to get ready on such short --"

"You talk a lot, you know that?" She cut him off in an indifferent tone.

"What?"

"You. You talk a lot."

"I --"

She held up a hand and shook her head, indicating that she didn't want to hear one more word from him. There was a stab of hurt in his chest, coupled with percolating indignation. Perhaps Pete was right; she did seem rude. Pressing his lips together, he averted his eyes away and sank back down on the couch again, making sure to sit as far away as possible from her.

Andrew joined them after a minute and Patrick was doing his level best to shrink into the couch away from the two. While the eldest of the Wentz siblings didn't talk to him - thank god - it was as uncomfortable as the whole situation could get.

When he thought he'd pass out from the tension, Pete joined them. When he moved to sit beside Patrick, the younger boy noticed he smelled of smoke. Wrinkling his nose, not in annoyance but because the smell was making him feel like sneezing. "Hey." He said softly to the boy beside him.

"Honestly Andrew, I thought I told you to pick a movie." Pete ignored Patrick, instead turned to scowl at his older brother.

"Did you?"

Pete's jaw set, his body was as taut as a stretched wire, waiting to snap at a moment's notice. Not wanting something bad to happen, Patrick cleared his throat and asked, "What are we going to watch?"

"Gay wizards." Andrew replied immediately, smirking.

"Huh?"

" _Harry Potter_. We're watching Harry Potter." Pete's voice was so low that it sounded like a growl. "Have you watched the movies?" He asked Patrick; it was the first time he had acknowledged the strawberry blond since he walked into the room.

Patrick was mildly taken aback but he regained his composure quickly. "Yea, I have. Which one are we going to watch?" It was that moment when he caught the flash of amusement and appreciation behind the boy's eyes.

"The fourth one."

*

Halfway through Harry Potter and Goblet Of Fire, Patrick had excused himself from the room to use the restroom. Alonsa had brought them drinks earlier and Patrick had too much lemonade because he was just too nervous to eat - or enjoy the movie. Either way he was relieved to be out of the room where he could stretch his legs.

Wandering down the hallway, he stopped by a window, distracted by the sight outside. There was a lovely garden in view, flowers still blooming and beautiful and the grass an alluring shade of green. The window was left slightly ajar so a cool breeze was wafting in the scent of greenery. Almost absentmindedly, he approached it and pushed the window open, forgetting why he had left the movie room in the first place.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice said from behind him and Patrick whirled around in surprise. It was Lewis, smiling amicably at him. It was like someone had switched Patrick's focus on, making him hyperaware of his surroundings.

Patrick felt his nerves stretch and tighten in the pit of his abdomen. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "Uh, yea." He mumbled, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. His mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust, making it hard for him to speak. There was anxiousness roiling around in his bloodstream. "Hello, Mr Wentz." He finally managed to say.

Lewis didn't seem to take notice, or mind for that matter. "Please, call me Lewis." He said pleasantly. Up close, Patrick could make out the lines of age and laughter on Lewis' face and the color of his eyes - they were blue, which was unlike his childrens' that were a warm shade of brown. 

Patrick's cheeks heated in embarrassment. "Sorry." He mumbled sheepishly.

"It's alright, my boy." Lewis let out a chuckled, eyes crinkling at the sides like Pete's did. "Are you here to watch a movie?" He asked, and Patrick wondered if he had purposely left out 'my kids' in that question.

Patrick nodded.

He moved to stand beside Patrick, peering at the garden. His posture was relaxed, with his hands placed behind his back. The boy watched him from the corner of his eye. He could picture this man in his office, staring out the window as he contemplated business tactics or his agenda for the day. And Patrick wondered once more what his mother really saw in this man. For him, he didn't see Lewis as someone who could be a father figure; he was just yet another stranger that Patrick knew the name and face of but the heart of.

There was a sudden pinching sensation of wariness in Patrick's chest. No matter how much Lewis wanted to weasel his way into his family, Patrick couldn't see him as a part of it. He barely noticed his slightly trembling hands curling into a fist. Lewis was turning to face him now and opening his mouth, probably to say something but Patrick was backing away. "I'm sorry, Mr Wentz - Lewis." The strawberry blond began. "But I really have to go."

"Leaving?" Lewis sounded surprised and glanced at his expensive Rolex wristwatch.

"Um, no. I need to use the bathroom." Patrick amended and paused with uncertainty. Suddenly he was at a loss on what to say. Goodbye? Surely not to Lewis as Patrick was supposed to stay until afternoon. "I'll see you around, then." He said, feeling lame, and hoped Lewis wouldn't find that rude; anxiety was playing tricks on his brain functions and causing him to worry over every little thing. He turned around.

Lewis nodded. "You should stay for dinner." When Patrick stopped in his tracks, slowly swiveling on his heel to face the man with a curious expression, Lewis continued. "I'm sure your mother would understand."

Patrick's pulse was hammering in his ears as disbelief washed over him. How hard was this man trying to make Patrick like him? He regarded Lewis wordlessly as a voice from the back of his mind whispered insistently. Then he let his gaze fall away. "I'm sorry but I have plans for tonight." He answered and turned around once more, leaving Lewis staring after him with a look that was more than the combination of astonishment and disappointment.


	15. 1.3

Patrick was on his way back to the movie room when he met Pete in the hallway. At the sight of the older boy, an involuntary smile tugged at his lips. "Hey."

Pete's pensive look was replaced with an expression similar to the strawberry blond's although there were still traces of his initial frown near the creases of his forehead. "Hi. Wanna come with me to the kitchen?" He said, continuing to walk.

"For what?" Even if Patrick asked, his feet moved as if by their own accord, quickening their pace to catch up Pete. "Is there something going on there?" He added with a hint of curiosity.

Pete laughed. "Yea, actually. I'm gonna make a sandwich." He declared, causing Patrick to slow down in confusion. Noticing the other boy was no longer apace with him, he glanced over his shoulder to find Patrick regarding him with arched eyebrows. "If you don't want to, you could go back." He suggested lightly.

The thought of watching Harry Potter with the other Wentz siblings alone made Patrick feel awkward all over from; somehow the imagination of having a decent - and nonexistent - conversation with either Andrew or Hilary left a funny tingling sensation of discomfort on his skin. He hurried up. "Sandwiches sound good." He said. "But why don't you ask your housekeeper to help you out?"

"I can't  _always_  rely on her twenty-four-seven, right?" Pete responded. "Besides, she's always cleaning the house so I don't want to add more stuff for her to do." He said thoughtfully.

They had  just entered the kitchen. It was large, about the same size of Patrick's back at his home, but instead of the industrial layout his had, the Wentz mansion's looked rustic yet modern. There were charming wooden cupboards lining up the wall to Patrick's left right above the counter where a sink and the stove was located. Across him sat a small, rectangular tables complete with four chairs that he suspected was where the family had their breakfast in the morning.

There was a separate counter as well but right now there were chopping boards a couple of ingredients and kitchen utensils left there. Pete gave it one look and told Patrick: "Andy's about to cook dinner so don't touch those; he won't be pleased to find them out of place."

Patrick skirted away from it while the other boy went for the fridge and began to hand him bread and a jar of strawberry jam. "Just put them on the table." Pete told him absentmindedly, trying to decide whether to use the sliced cheese or cheese spread.

Patrick set the items on the table and watched as Pete selected the sliced cheese and went to get peanut butter from a cupboard before heading to a drawer to get two plates and a butter knife. "What are you going to make?" The younger boy asked curiously when Pete joined him at the table.

"Something to eat, like a sandwich." Pete replied vaguely and broke into a laugh when Patrick narrowed his eyes at him. "So, you want peanut butter and cheese or regular jam sandwich? Wait, are you lactose-intolerant?"

"Um no, my bowels can handle dairy products - I thought I told you that."

"Slipped my mind."

"And I'm good with either." Patrick answered, tracing a random pattern on the table's wooden surface idly. A small smile played on his lips when Pete began to hum a familiar tune, picking up the butter knife and placing slices of bread on a plate. He began to insist on helping out as he felt awkward for making him do all the work but Pete shooed him off and made him sit and watch the older boy instead.

"I'll make you both the strawberry one and the PB sandwich." Pete informed when a man entered the kitchen. At first Patrick didn't pay him much attention right up until he passed them. The sight of the man jarred Patrick.

The first thing about him that distracted Patrick were the tattoos; he seemed to be covered in inked designs, which Patrick found both interesting and a bit intimidating at the same time. He also had shaggy red hair that he was now tying up into a ponytail. Patrick would've mistaken him as a member of a biker gang had it not been for the bright pink apron he had donned sporting a smiling flower.

Pete, noticing Patrick's baffled look, broke into an amused grin and turned to see who he was staring at. "That's Andy Hurley. Our chef." He informed and the man glanced up, wearing a affable expression and a pair of spectacles. "Andy, this is Patrick."

"Nice to meet you, Patrick." Patrick was even more bewildered that Andy's voice wasn't a baritone he had been expecting to hear, rather a soft and light voice that didn't quite match with his outward appearance. Andy smiled at him and began to set to work. "Pete, you're not planning to spoil your appetite are you? You know how Mr Wentz feels about you not finishing your dinner." He said to the dark-haired boy who was studiously spreading a generous amount of jam on a slice of bread.

Pete snorted with amusement. "You really leave me no choice. Fine, I won't tell you." He said teasingly and pushed a plate of the sandwiches he made for Patrick across the table before starting on his serving. "Are you cooking Thai food again?" He asked the chef, wrinkling his nose slightly. "Because the last time I had that green curry, it didn't agree with my stomach."

"Oh, we're not having that tonight." Andy replied. "By the way, are you staying over for dinner?" He glanced over at the table where the boys sat, speaking to Patrick.

The peanut butter and cheese sandwich that was about to arrive in Patrick's mouth froze halfway. "Huh?" The strawberry blond sat up, flushing slightly. "Um, I don't ..."

"Please do!" Pete said past a mouthful of bread. "It'll be awesome!" He added as if that statement could solidify Patrick's decision to agree to staying over. The younger boy bit his lip consideringly, looking from Pete's hopeful gaze to Andy's mild expression. Suddenly, his stomach twisted anxiously. Setting down his sandwich, he cleared his throat and shrugged. "I'll have to ask Mom."

"Doing that right now." Pete informed, holding up his phone whose screen now lit up with the call menu displaying Patricia's number.

" _Pete!_ " Patrick was both surprised and a little annoyed that Pete was that bent on him staying. He tried to reach for the other boy's phone but Pete held it high in the air so he couldn't take it. "Stop that." Patrick said firmly, the legs of his chair dragging noisily on the marble-tiled floor - Andy flinched at the sound -when he stood up in attempts to snatch the phone.

Pete jerked away before his fingers could close in on the device or his wrist with a stubborn gleam in his eyes. Patrick tried to go around the table but he darted away to the other side. "No." He said, dashing to hide behind Andy, who was too surprised to move out of the way.

"Pete, that's my mother you're  _calling_." By now bubbles of frustration and irritation percolating in Patrick's veins, making his tone sharper than usual. "End the call before she picks up!" He demanded, rising to a near-shout.

"Boys, I'm trying to cook here." Andy said faintly, looking rather awkward being right in the way between two boys who were on the verge of breaking into an argument.

Pete frowned, a stubborn gaze burning in his eyes. "She's going to be  _my_  mother too when Dad gets hitched with her." He pointed out, snapping in an uncharacteristically derisive tone that was so unlike of him. "Stop acting so  _immature_!"

The words sliced right through Patrick, reminding him of the harsh reality that he had pushed into the back of his mind in hopes that by doing so, he'd be able to get along better with the Wentz siblings like he wasn't forced to. The younger boy stopped in his tracks, staring at Pete. Pinpricks of hurt impaled themselves at his chest. All he heard in that span of three seconds of silence was the pounding of his heart in his ears. "Me? Immature?" He echoed flatly.

Pete's burning gaze flickered out at the realization of what he had just said. He paled visibly just as Patricia answered the call, her voice speaking a number of inaudible garbled words. "T-That's not what I meant --" He stammered, starting forward.

"Oh no, that's what you  _intended_  to mean." Detachedly, Patrick was surprised at how frigid his tone could sound. He backed a step from Pete, shaking his head with a disbelievingly offended frown on his features. Pete halted, staring at him with those wide eyes like he knew exactly what Patrick wanted to say yet couldn't bring himself to accept it.

"Trick --"

"You think  _I_  don't know that you're being so nice to me so that I'd like  _you_  more than your siblings?" Patrick began, feeling the conflagration of anger rise in his bloodstream like a hot, inexorable tidal wave. "You think I don't  _suspect_  that you're trying to sway me from trusting both Andrew and Hilary? That you're feeding me so many excuses not to get to know them better? For all I know they could be the nicest people on Earth. As much as I'll be a part of this family, they will become my siblings the same way  _you_  will be."

"I  _wasn't_  - Patrick, you can't be serious!" The older boy exclaimed, very much flummoxed by how events had turned out.

"Oh, Peter, you have  _no idea_  how much I've heard about you from school, all those rumors, all those stunts you pulled off."

Pete blanched even more, fear blooming behind his eyes when Andy stepped in between the two boys, halting Patrick's advance to Pete. "I think you should stop right there, Mr Stump." There was a deadly calm way he spoke that kinda reminded Patrick of thin ice. "May I remind you that you are, and will always remain to be, a  _guest_  in this house until Mr Wentz and your mother marry."

A cold and stern expression now replaced the initial mild and affable look in the man's blue eyes. Patrick knew he should be afraid because, heck, this was a man who now looked like he could bat him over without breaking a sweat but the pounding of anger and hurt was fueling him to see past how intimidating Andy was.

Patrick ignored the warning, glaring furiously over Andy's shoulder to Pete who had backed up against the counter by the wall with wide worried eyes staring back at him. "Y-You don't know me." Pete murmured so quietly that Patrick had to strain his ears to catch what he said. The call to Patricia had been ended somewhere along the process and his phone was now emitting a shrill tri-tone ring that felt like they were stabbing Patrick's ears. "You don't know me  _at all_." Pete rephrased.

" _Exactly_." Patrick agreed coldly. "Which was why I should've been more careful when you were being so nice to me, compared to Andrew and Hilary --"

"Patrick --" Andy began, starting to nudge the boy away.

"Don't compare me to those two." Pete growled, narrowing those amber eyes and baring his teeth. For a moment, he resembled that of a wolf preparing to bite a chunk out of anything that provoked it. "I swear to God, if you think you know what it's like to be in this family, you're fucking full of shit." He hissed. "And --"

"My father," Patrick said, shoving Andy's hands away while cutting off Pete's next sentence, "always said that I should be wary of strangers who open up too easily." His hands shook at his sides, bringing up the topic of David but his father's words were ringing loud and clear in his head. "And you, Pete, are a stranger who did exactly what he warned me. The saddest thing is, I listened  _you_  instead of listening to  _him_."

A harsh noise that sounded too forced to be a laugh ejected from Pete. A cruel sort of rictus grin was etched on the older boy's face. "Well I  _hate_  to burst your pretty little bubble but unfortunately, Patty, David's --" He jabbed a finger at the floor. The sound of his father on Pete's lips snapped something in Patrick. "-- buried six feet under the ground. He's  _dead_  and there's nothing you can do to change it so why not move on??" He spat.

The pain that was caused from each and every of Pete's words, Patrick thought, could be likened to bullet wounds. It was unbearable and he had forgotten how to breath from the sheer disbelief and hurt when he sucked in what sounded like an agonized gasp. He stared at Pete through a blurry vision and knew that was a sign that was a sign that he was about to cry. He blinked back furiously, pressing his mouth into a line to stop his lower lip from wobbling to much.

Even Andy, who was trying to make Patrick leave so that his and Pete's argument would cease, whirled on his employer's son with utter disbelief and horror. " _Pete!_  That isn't something you should say!" He admonished in the most fatherly upset voice that Patrick had ever heard. "Apologize to him  _this_  instant."

Pete glowered at them with a remorseless expression. He crossed his arms, setting his chin stubbornly. He didn't even seem to care about the distress he had caused to Patrick. "It's the truth and he  _needs_  a dose of reality." He jabbed a thumb at the strawberry blond. "It's not healthy for him to hold on to the past like that."

Barely aware that his hands had fluttered to his face to cover his mouth, Patrick released the most unceromonious and pained whimper. "My father made me who I am today."

"Then he raised a sniveling and sensitive twat." Pete responded. Then Andy was whirling on him, admonishing him severely but his voice was a rush of inaudible noise to Patrick's ears. The strawberry blond backed away hastily, feeling tears streaming down his face. The world seemed to spin around him uncontrollably and he nearly hit the doorjamb face-first when he turned around to exit.

Never had Patrick wanted to stay far away from any of the members of the Wentz family and wished that his mother never had anything to do with Pete's father.


	16. 1.4

The worst part of it all was that Patrick had believed Pete wasn't as capable as hurting his feelings that badly. He had told himself, over the course of a few weeks, that Pete would be the only Wentz that he'd ever consider allowing himself to call the boy his brother. Pete had given him so many reasons to like him and now he gave Patrick an excuse to stay away from.

He drove straight back home after the meltdown, warm tears splashing of frustration and hurt splashing onto his jeans and making spots of dampness on the fabric. His pale complexion did nothing to hide the red splotches that had broken out on his cheeks. By the time he reached his home, the pain from Pete's words had evoked anger. Joe had taken one look at the boy when he entered the mansion and decided that it was best if he allowed Patrick some time to cool off.

Patrick heard his mother call him from the study as he stormed past it on the way towards the stairs. He nearly tripped once or twice on the way up, stubbing his toes in the process but the constant pounding of hurt and resentment blocked the physical pain. He didn't usually slam doors but today he closed his louder than usual and bolted the lock so he wouldn't be disturbed before flopping on his bed backwards.

How on earth could Pete say such insensitive things, and offend Patrick that way? Sure the older boy did say once or twice that he was unfiltered and often spoke his mind but Patrick had doubted it would reach to this extent. Then again, David had always told his son that he was too trusting so the joke was on Patrick now. And because of that weakness, Patrick hated knowing people. Perhaps it had been a mistake to allow Pete get the best of him and turn on him that way.

He remained lying on his back for about an hour before he sat up. Over the span of sixty minutes he had heard Patricia calling him anxiously from outside his room a few times but he had ignored it, knowing he would be unable to bear the brunt of her disappointment in him. Sniffing, he blinked his bleary eyes and slid off his bed.

He walked over to the bookshelf, hand reaching for the third shelf as if by instinct and pulled out an old family photo album. It was the same one that Pete had took a look at not long ago but Patrick pushed that fact to the back of his mind, preferring not to think of the older boy. While he could move over to the other side of the room to the comfy couch, he chose to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. Flipping through the book, he reached the section where Polaroids he and David had taken were stuck on the page.

Selecting the individual candid shots of his father, Patrick set them in a neat pile beside him before closing the album and returning it to its place on the shelf. Then he began to look at them one by one, the aching sense of longing weighing his heart down the longer he stared at David's pictures. His fingers brushed over one of his favorite shots of his father which was taken when Patrick had snuck into the study and taken a snap of his father reading.

David looked so at ease in the photograph, with a book on his lap and a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. Sunlight had caught his copper hair, turning it into a brilliant shade of gold at the tips.

Patrick fought back a soft sob, wishing his father hadn't been diagnosed with a deadly form of bone cancer. It wasn't fair that such a great man like David was taken too soon from Patrick; there had been times that the boy had questioned why fate chose to be so cruel when he was young and struck again by letting Patricia and Lewis fall in love. He wondered how his father would feel if he knew what was going on. Of course it was best if Patricia was happy but Patrick was being in a particularly selfishly resentful mood.

Of all the people, why fall for a man who had slightly problematic kids?

With a disgusted sigh, he kicked out in thin air and hugged his knees to his body.

*

A soft knocking on Patrick's door awoke the boy, who had fallen asleep in that curled position against the wall. Wincing, he sat up and stretched his sore limbs over his head before blinking. "What is it?" He called out.

"It's ... It's Pete." A voice answered.

Patrick felt his stomach tighten, his anger bubbling back up his chest. "I don't want to talk to you." He snappped, getting up towards the door. Knowing Pete was on the other side, he glared at the tiny groove beside the doorknob. "Especially not after what you said about Dad." He added.

Pete was silent on the other side but from the soft sound of shuffling, he was shifting on his feet. "Look, I came to apologize not to ... start another argument with you."

"You're doing a fine job at it, Peter." Patrick, who had never once used sarcasm to guilt someone, was surprised to hear the irony in his own voice. "Who let you in?" He demanded.

"Your butler, Joe. And I talked to Patricia just now; she's worried." And then Pete paused. "Listen Patrick, I know I say things without thinking but I'm really sorry --"

"How many times are you going to use that excuse?" Patrick cut him off, balling his shaking hands into tight fists that his knuckles turned white. "The first time, I forgave you, but I didn't think you'd do it this way the second time!" He snapped. "Honestly Pete."

Pete was silent for so long that Patrick wondered if he had left. Biting back the tiny prick of guilt, he placed his hand on the door and rested his forehead against the cool wood. Without warning, flashes of David began to flicker behind Patrick's closed eyelids, causing sadness and longing to bloom in the hollow space under his ribcage where his father had belonged.

"My father - David - was the best man I knew. Ever since I could remember, Dad was there in every step of the way, giving his all to raise me the best he could. He even gave up his job running that hotel business and gave Mom his position so he could look after me. He was always so supportive and so caring and loving --" Patrick broke off, wiping away at his wet cheeks. "You have  _no idea_  how much I love my father and how hard it was for me when he passed away. You don't know what it's like to keep wishing he'd come back one last time to say a proper goodbye instead of watching him breathe his last breath in a cold hospital ward."

Patrick had to stop because he was starting to sound incoherent with emotions. Even though Pete couldn't see him, crying while the older boy was on the other side of the door felt to Patrick like shedding tears in front of people who would ridicule him. And what was to say if Pete would do it again? To call him a sniveling and sensitive twat?

There was a muffled sound on the other side of the door, like someone putting their palm on the wooden surface. "Patrick, let me in." His voice was soft yet Patrick could hear it cracking at the end.

Against his better judgement, the strawberry blond's fingers closed around the doorbknob and gave it a twist before opening it. Behind the door stood Pete. There was a time when Patrick had thought the dark-haired boy before him was intimidating, what with his preference for wearing black clothes and eyeliner all the time with that occasional dead serious expression. But now, Patrick saw a boy regarding him with an admixture of remorse and empathy.

Patrick sniffed and scrubbed the back of his hand across his face, pressing his lips together. In that silent moment, both boys stared at each other, tension running like a live wire. And then Pete spoke: "I know you might not forgive me or like me anymore because of what I said." He paused to draw a breath, carefully searching Patrick's blue eyes with his own dark amber ones. "But please hear me out.

"The reason why I said those things about David was because I was so jealous of you. From what I heard from Patricia, David absolutely adored you from day one, whereas my own father wasn't even there when I was born. Where yours raised you with love Lewis didn't give me  _any_  attention; the most I ever got was when I'd get into trouble for doing stupid things or that time I caught him cheating on Mom with a hooker."

Patrick couldn't disguise the horror on his face. "He  _what_??" He began to ask but Pete held up a finger, telling him to allow the older boy to speak his part first.

"It was probably too late but when Mom died, Dad started to  _try_  to make it up to us but, of course, he didn't really know what he was doing because he missed out so much on being a  _proper_  father. Andrew took advantage of this by demanding material possessions. Hilary asked for Dad to give her permission to do whatever she liked, but me? I wanted him to prove to me that he could fix what he broke in this family." There was a certain hunger to his words.

"And I didn't really give him much chance because he kept trying to win me over by giving me expensive stuff. And that was until he met your mother, Patricia. And I don't know what he did - maybe he took parenting courses - but he became less bad at being a father. He started to pay more attention to what we did and cared so I guess it kinda made up. It was hard to accept the change at first but there's always that part in me that was waiting for him to fail again.

"But then I learned about how great David was and I was, like I said, jealous. I was jealous that despite the fact that both our father had businesses that pumped in money, yours made time for you while mine didn't. And the bond between you and David was -  _is_  - so much stronger compared to mine and Dad's. You had this picture perfect life while I didn't. So I guess it snapped in me when you acted like that earlier and being the jerk I am, I took out all my old frustrations on you."

Patrick stared at him for a few moments, unsure of what to make of how Pete had basically poured out more than the simple apology he had bargained for. He bit his lower lip. "Was it worth it? Hurting my feelings?"

Pete shook his head. "It really wasn't. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it. If there's anyone here that's the sniveling and sensitive twat, it's me. I should've moved on, instead of you. All you ever did was remember what your father taught you and it isn't wrong to do that; what's wrong is how I lashed out at you because I couldn't bear that your father was way better than mine could ever be. You don't have to forgive me but all I wanna do is to apologize for being such a dick to you."

Patrick averted his eyes from Pete to the space on the floor between him and the other boy. He didn't speak right away, instead shoved his hands down in his pockets and pressed his lips together. Then he glanced up. "I have one question: why were you being so nice to me from the day we met?"

Pete looked surprised for a moment before he regained his composure. "I ... don't know exactly why. I guess it was just that vibe you gave off, y'know. That no matter what happens, you'd always be there. And being the kind of person I can be, I felt like I needed to be around people like you." He said, a small hopeful smile on his lips.

"And what did being around me do to you?" Patrick asked.

"I'm less of the shitty person I used to be." Pete said with a laugh and Patrick couldn't help but feel his lips tug upwards at the corners. Then the older boy spread his arms slightly, regarding Patrick with arched eyebrows. "So ... apology accepted?" He said in a hushed voice.

Patrick couldn't say no. He sympathized this boy and felt like he could be given another chance - after all, people made mistakes and Pete seemed sincerely remorseful for what he had done. However instead of replying right away, he gave Pete a couple of seconds of staring as a tiny form of passive revenge before obliging. "Apology accepted." He responded and wrapped his arms tightly around the other boy. Pete let out a soft laugh and hugged him back.

The two were wrapped in that embrace when Pete whispered, "We should probably take a picture 'cause y'know, memories for our first make-up. Good practice for when we become brothers."

"Oh  _shut up_ , Pete." Patrick responded in mild annoyance but was grinning, the warm fluttering in his chest never ceasing to falter even when he let go of Pete.


	17. 1.5

Quietly humming to himself under his breath, Patrick rolled the glue stick over the back of a photograph, making sure to coat it with enough adhesive before he flipped it over and stuck it onto his notebook. As he had already finished his homework, he didn't want to be idle during study hall as the librarian would prowl amongst the shelves and give an earful to whoever was wasting time.

The picture he had stuck to his notebook was a photograph and him and Pete that was taken after the two had made it up to each other, which was two nights ago. Well, it was Pete taking a selfie of himself using one of Patrick's cameras but Patrick had been caught in the background looking over curiously. He chose this, out of the ten that Pete had taken, because he liked the way the lighting looked on both of them.

Smoothing the photograph over to it would stick properly, Patrick flipped the notebook open. He was checking through his home study schedule inside when somebody rested their hand on his shoulder. He gave a start, whipping his head to see who it was when he heard a familiar laugh. "Easy, Sophomore Stump."

His body relaxed before he even saw who it was, already knowing from the voice and the nickname that it was Pete. He smiled at the older boy who settled on the seat beside him and was placing a pile of books on the table. "Pete."

"Sup." Pete responded, giving a salute. "I've got a shit ton of homework here. Senior year isn't a joke. Yikes." He made a face at the books before facing Patrick. He pointed at his notebook as a grin tugged on his lips. "That's us."

Patrick glanced down at the photograph. "Yea." He peered over at Pete's books and frowned a little, noting that it was quite strange that Pete had that much homework. "Are those --"

"A week's worth of homework." Pete replied and to Patrick's visible horror and shock, he laughed. "What? Better late than never. Chill."

"Procrastination is bad." Patrick chided him lightly before peering over Pete's shoulder to have a look at what the older boy had to do. He was close enough to smell the scent of citrus on Pete's clothes and detachedly wondered if he had always smelled that way when Pete moved his face with a slightly ruddy expression. "Um, could you ..." He trailed off, glancing at the space between them.

Heat rushed into Patrick's cheeks. "Sorry." He mumbled, settling back in his seat. He did feel a tiny bit guilty of breathing down on Pete's neck. Clearing his throat, he went back to checking his notebook when a new person joined the table. He looked up to find a vaguely familiar boy with a cap of brown hair that curled at the ends. The brunet had a friendly expression when he smiled and waved at Patrick, mouthing a greeting.

Then the boy turned to look at Pete, whose head was ducked while he did his homework, and a tiny crooked grin played on his lips. There was an audible bump when Pete yelped, wincing, and glared at the boy. "Dude!"

The boy broke into a fit of suppressed tiny giggles. "Gotcha!" He winked.

Pete looked to Patrick, shaking his head. "Kids these days." He sighed exasperatedly.

"Hey!" The boy who had kicked Pete from under the table pouted at Pete. "My name isn't 'Kids these days.'" He stuck a tongue out playfully.

"Oh right! It was  _Twig_." Pete responded, making a teasing reference to the boy's gangly stature.

"Haha."

Pete gestured at the boy across the table. "Patrick, this is Ryan Ross." He said. "Ryan, this is my soon-to-be-stepbrother, Patrick Stump."

Ryan's eyes regarded Patrick curiously. There was something about him that reminded the strawberry blond of a puppy; there was definitely a boisterous and playful way he acted. Ryan cocked his head and smiled. "Hi!" He waved cheerily. "I have a question for you, Patrick."

"Huh?" Patrick was taken aback. "Oh, um, yea. Go ahead. What is it?"

Ryan let out a soft, nervous-sounding giggle. "Pete won't tell me this but are you taking the Wentz surname or keeping yours when your mother marries his dad?" There wasn't anything wrong with the question, in fact, it was an openly curious inquiry but Patrick couldn't help but feel like Ryan was being nosy. 

Sensing his discomfort, Pete narrowed his eyes at Ryan. " _Ryan_." He chided. "Do you really have to be so blatantly open with your thoughts?"

Ryan flushed but managed a sheepish smile, shrugging. "That's why you love me. Because I'm like you, in a way." Something about his words didn't quite match up to Patrick but before he could make a comment about it, another boy joined the table. The first thing he noticed about the newcomer was his large expressive eyes.

Patrick expected this guy to be one of Pete's friends, no doubt, but he was surprised when it wasn't Pete the boy greeted but Ryan.

"Hey babe." The boy said, pressing a kiss to Ryan's cheek.

Now it wasn't that Patrick had anything against public displays of affection but seeing how open these two were, especially when Ryan had grinned and kiss the other boy back, made his chest tighten.

"Brendon, aren't you supposed to be in class?" Ryan giggled, addressing his boyfriend, and wrapped his arm around the boy.

"Maybe I decided not to go." Brendon replied cheekily.

The way he and Ryan looked at each other stirred a certain kind of envy in Patrick. While he wouldn't really admit it, the strawberry blond did wish somebody would look at him that way.

Patrick let his gaze fall to the blank page of his notebook, withdrawing into a space inside his head that was reserved for thinking, a distant expression settling on his unfocused gaze. Noting how sileny he had fallen, a frown formed on Pete's features when he faced the younger boy. Without really thinking about it, he raised his hand and placed it on Patrick's shoulder.

The gesture seemed to bring Patrick back to reality and the boy looked at Pete. There was a question in his blue eyes. "Yea?" Patrick said curiously, wondering why Pete was staring at him like that. A small flower of apprehension bloomed in his chest.

Pete bit his lip, appearing unsure for a brief moment. "You ... Are you fine with them?" He asked in an uncharacteristically tiny voice that cracked at the end. Patrick had to take a second to understand that he was talking about Ryan and Brendon.

Patrick's eyebrows arched, confused. "Yea. I don't see why I shouldn't be." He responded and noticed the way Pete's shoulders slackened. "I mean, everyone should be allowed to love whoever they want." He added, regarding Pete seriously.

Their gazes locked on each other and something flashed behind Pete's eyes so quickly that Patrick questioned himself whether he had imagined it at all. Then a small smile formed on the dark-haired boy's lips. "True." And the curve grew wider as he nodded. "You're cool."

Patrick frowned, nonplussed. "I am?"

But he didn't ask about it because the way Pete smiled to himself made Patrick's heart flutter under his ribcage.

*

Patrick was certain that he'd be fine going to his next lesson on his own but Pete insisted to walk him to the classroom. "Are you trying to assert your big-brotherness?" The younger boy asked curiously as they climbed up the stairs.

"What big-brotherness? I have no idea what you're talking about." There was a slight catch to Pete's tone when a couple of students passed them by. "Where'd you get that idea?" He laughed.

"Well." Patrick began, starting to feel breathless from going up the steps with his books weighing him down. "You're starting to accompany me around when you can and I notice that you're always there at my locker waiting for me during dismissal period." He pointed out.

"Isn't that what older siblings do?" Pete frowned at him. "Like, look out for their little brothers or sisters?"

"The Way brothers don't do that." Patrick said, thinking on how sometimes he'd pass by Mikey on the way out and find Gerard someplace else. "And I don't think Jon does that either.  Besides, I'm hardly little. I'll be seventeen next April."

"Technicalities." Pete waved his hand dismissively, scoffing. "But hey, I gotta make sure nothing bad happens to you." He added.

"Nothing bad?" Patrick echoed in bafflement. They had reached the top of the stairs on the floor where Patrick's History class was located. There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow. "Like Leon?"

" _Shh_ _!_ " Pete hushed him loudly, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. A look of alarm was apparent in the older boy's widened eyes. His face had gone pale. "Don't ever mention his name." For a moment, Patrick saw the fear in his gaze. Biting his lower lip, he drew his hand, which was squeezing Patrick's shoulder, away and exhaled. "Just don't ..."

As if it wasn't bad enough that Patrick had remembered the way Leon and his cronies had beat Pete up in front of him before chucking his head a toilet bowl, Patrick's heart broke for Pete. Nobody deserved that sort of treatment. Frankly he hadn't given this too much thought although now he wished he had, seeing the way Pete acted when he mentioned his name.

What was it that Pete did to make Leon bully him that way? Surely, it was trivial but the guilt on Pete's face told Patrick otherwise.

Patrick didn't have to think when he pulled Pete into a hug. The older boy stiffened with surprise against him but eventually relaxed and wrapped his arms around him. His body was warm and Patrick could feel Pete's heart, beating as fast as his, against his chest. He really didn't care that people had given them curious glances or that a teacher was yelling at them across the corridor to get their asses to class. All he cared was making Pete feel better and to let him know, in some way, that he would try his best to help him out.

"If there's anything that's bothering you, please." Patrick drew back to look at Pete. "Don't bottle it up. Even though I know we're not that  _close_ , it helps if you talk about it; you'll feel better."

The straight line that was Pete's mouth curved upwards at the corners in the slightest, lifting a little of the weight of apprehension resting on Patrick's shoulders. The boy's deep amber eyes shone. "Y-Yea." Pete nodded, giving a pat on the strawberry blond's shoulder distractedly like he wasn't aware that he was doing it. "I'll keep that in mind."

Patrick smiled at him.

Then Pete's gaze widened as though he had remembered something important that was forgotten. "Hey, don't you have class to get too? Shit, I'm so sorry for stalling - I gotta get to class too. Anyway, see ya!" Pete exclaimed, gave Patrick his mock-salute, before he swiveled on his heel and ran.

Patrick stared after him for a few moments and suddenly he didn't feel like attending History lessons anymore.


	18. 1.6

Patrick's lips thinned when he read the text he had just received after lessons were dismissed for the day. As Pete now took over Joe's job of driving him to and fro from school - much to Patrick's initial protests - he was used to seeing Pete waiting for him at the building exit that led to the pick-up point everyday over the past month.

Today, however, Pete was detained in detention for about an hour so Patrick had to stay in school longer. He didn't have any after-school meetings today neither was he keen on staying in detention he was supposed to be in about a month ago. Sending a reply to Pete that he'd be in the library, he tucked his phone in his bag and set off. The crowds of students in the hallways were starting to thin although his progress was still slow. With his mind set on using his extra time to finish his homework, his mind went blank with focus on reaching the library as fast as he could.

This meant he had to take a detour round the back of the school, where there'd be less people. While he didn't really like the idea of walking all alone, he really wanted to complete his Calculus homework. He felt a wave of unease as he passed by the back of the classroom block because he was now passing by a couple of the school's delinquents smoking clove cigarettes. They stared at him consideringly as he walked past them as if they were sizing him up.

Relief filled his chest when he, from the corner of his eyes, watched as they turn their attentions back to smoking. Patrick fought back from exhaling loudly; those students intimidated him a lot. Clutching his books close to his body, he picked up his pace when suddenly he was yanked back by his bag. Letting out a cry of surprise, he stumbled but managed to right himself and saw who it was who pulled him.

Grinning at him was Leon.

Patrick's heart clenched with shock and fear. Then he realized the boy was alone - the group of delinquents earlier pretty much carried on smoking instead of looking over so they definitely weren't Leon's friends - before Patrick moved his wide eyes to the bully. "Look, I don't want a-any trouble." He stammered, backing away as Leon advanced. "If you could just --" His back was now up against the wall, so he'd either have to make a break for it or punch Leon.

The former had been his first option but Leon's gaze seemed to pierce right into him, increasing the cold blossoming of fear in his chest. Those gray eyes narrowed as Leon looked him up and down, curling his upper lip with distaste. "Philip, right?"

Patrick stared at him frightfully. From the corner of his vision, the delinquents noticed what was happening between he and Leon and were starting to leave - perhaps not wanting to get involved with them - which made the strawberry blond want to scream for their help. His lips were sealed tight with fear.

"I asked you a  _question_. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" Leon sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Please don't hurt me." Patrick squeaked.

"That isn't your name."

"P-Patrick."

"Ah!" Leon snapped his fingers, the loud sound startling Patrick. "You're the kid who's going to be Pete's little stepbrother, right?"

Patrick didn't respond to his question. "Please ..." He began softly, voice quavering slightly with the end of each syllable. "I have somewhere to be."

Leon arched an eyebrow, narrowing his gaze into gray slits at Patrick. For a moment, it made him seem like he was very displeased about the trembling boy's reply and was considering dunking his head in the toilet bowl again. "Alright. Fine." He drew back.

This unexpected response chased away Patrick's fear and replaced it with relief before it was smothered by apprehension. He was confused as to why Leon was letting him off easy when the other day he had done quite the opposite. His breaths were shallow as he regarded Leon warily, eyes raking him up and down repeatedly for any signs that the other boy was messing around with his head.

But just when Patrick was about to take a step and run for it, Leon grabbed his shirtfront and slammed him up against the wall. A malicious sneer curled the other boy's lips as Patrick yelped. "Tell Pete," Leon began. "To choke on a dick." As soon as he finished the sentence, his hand that was fisting Patrick's collar released the younger boy.

Patrick gasped, relieved to have some air in his lungs before he made a dash for it, away from Leon. He didn't dare to look back and even if he did, he'd probably have some difficulty due to his vision which was misting over. His heart was slamming hard against his ribcage, causing adrenaline to rush in his bloodstream. Once he reached the library, panting and sweating from running so fast, did it hit him.

Why on earth did Leon ask him to pass a message on to Pete? And what did he mean?

Patrick was too exhausted from the effort to think and the librarian was giving him funny looks so he placed his bag at one of the provided lockers in the library, taking out his things, before hurrying over to a table occupied by a student who seemed to be busy texting. Anxiety was pumping in him, causing Patrick to have difficulty in focusing on his homework. Involuntarily, he kept looking up from his papers to see if Leon was lurking round the corner.

Despite the fact that the library had air-conditioners running, Patrick was sweating. It had been the longest hour he had to deal with by himself - with the exception of the student who was texting although they weren't much for company and chatter - until Pete came looking for him.

"Thank god you're here." Patrick said the words in a single exhalation, forcing his voice to barely above a whisper despite wanting to cry it out. He rose from his seat and, forgetting his composure, rushed towards the older boy.

Pete stared at him in confusion. "Why? What happened?"

"I --" Patrick stopped short, biting his lip. He raked his fingers through his hair irritably, shifting on his feet. "Can we talk about this in the car?" It took him some effort to suggest that as he was so close to breaking out what Leon told him to say to Pete and Patrick was certain that his voice would probably pitch loud enough to earn a scolding from the librarian.

Pete nodded, still wearing a frown, but followed him closely. The younger boy wondered if Pete knew what had happened although that was a ridiculous notion as his features still held his initial bafflement. Barely allowing time for Pete to settle on the driver's seat, Patrick blurted out a single word or, rather, a name. "Leon."

Pete had only buckled his seatbelt when he froze, eyes widening when he looked up at Patrick. "What?" Upon noticing that Patrick was fiddling with his fingers anxiously with a thin-lipped expression did Pete's features change from bewilderment to barely concealed anger. "Okay, what the fuck did he do to you?" He demanded.

Rarely had Patrick ever heard Pete sound  _this_  mad. Patrick gave a start from the sound of Pete's voice. Frankly, he had the whole thing written out concisely in his head on how to tell Pete about his run-in with Leon but all that could tumble out of his mouth was a rush of barely coherent words.

"I have no idea. I mean I was just walking to the library round the back of the school and he just pulled me from behind and asked me for my name! And then I told him I had to go somewhere and he let me go before he grabbed my collar and pushed me up the wall. He told me to tell you to choke on a dick and  _what the hell is going on_?" He stared at Pete in bewilderment.

Pete's angry flush had faded as soon as he heard what Leon wanted Patrick to tell him; he blanched. Instead of explaining to Patrick or saying anything to calm the younger boy down, he leaned back on his seat and remained silent for a few long moments. Then he shut his eyes, setting his jaw.

"Pete?" Apprehension swelled in Patrick, striking up an ache in his chest. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears when he reached out to Pete's clenched hands. "Pete, I didn't mean to shout or anything --"

"It's not you." Pete waved his hand away. "It's -  _It's nothing_." With a sigh, he seemed to pretend not to notice the way Patrick was staring at him in concern.

"What are you saying? Leon told you to choke on a dick - What is that supposed to mean?" Patrick could tell Pete was holding something back and, even though what he was doing was already considered prying into Pete's business, he didn't want Pete to bottle it all up inside.

And then Pete looked at him. His features were stiff and impassive, belying no outward signs of emotions save for the way his deep amber eyes seemed to flash with something behind them. He exhaled audibly and shook his head. "There are two types of haters." He said bitterly and held up two fingers. "The ones who hate you because they're jealous and those who are just bigots. Leon, the fucking bastard, is both. He hates me because ... of who I am, for a lot of reasons."

"Pete?"

"Yea?" His tone was flat. There was vulnerability in his gaze, as well as something else that Patrick couldn't quite place a finger on.

"Are you ..." Patrick faltered. For some reason, his mind flashed back to the time when Pete asked him if he was alright with his friends displaying their affection towards each other and the way he looked almost relieved. He remembered the way Pete had looked at Mikey. His heart contracted painfully in his chest.

But before he could finish his question, Pete's expression closed like a door so whatever Patrick wanted to ask was swallowed back. The knuckles of Pete's hands stood out white as he gripped the steering wheel, driving them out of school. "Please, don't," was all the older boy could say to him.


	19. 1.7

_Pete, can I sleep over at yours?_

As soon as Patrick had typed that sentence out he tapped the Send button immediately. The message bubble of it popped up on the screen and Patrick waited a few moments with a certain amount of nervousness when Pete began to type something back.

 _Sure. But why?_  read Pete's reply.

Patrick's fingers hesitated over the screen of his phone; his mind trying to think up of an appropriate response. Frankly, he didn't want to seem intrusive and neither did he want to make it look as though he was being shady.

Earlier today Pete had dropped him off at home without a word more than a simple goodbye, an obvious sign of how he didn't want to further explain why he didn't want to talk about the whole reason why Leon hated him, and as soon as Patrick found his mother in her room she told him she had to be away for a business trip for about three days. And while Patrick was used to staying home under the care of Joe while his mother was away for work, Patricia had insisted him to stay with the Wentz family for the meantime.

Had his day occurred differently he would've had no problem with the notion of staying over with the Wentzs.

Of course, Patrick wanted to persuade her to allow him to stay at his own home but for some reason, he didn't.

He was certain Patricia had informed Lewis but for good measure, Patrick texted Pete to make sure if it was okay with him though why he did so, he was unsure himself. But that only made a  _part_  of the reason why he texted Pete. Honestly, he only wanted to see if Pete was still in the same mood as he had been earlier after Patrick had talked about Leon.

While he struggled with all the possible explanations that were plausible enough, Pete was already typing.

 _Never mind. Dad just told me why. Come over then!_  read Pete's reply, followed by smiley-faced emojis. A smile formed on Patrick's lips, one that he wasn't quite aware that he was doing so, and put the rest of the clothes he had picked out into his duffel bag, packing them along with some of the necessities stowed inside before he zipped it up.

Picking it up, he left his room and closed the door behind and descended the stairs. The mansion was eerily quiet at this time - usually Patricia would have classical music playing from the audio system in her study but as Joe was sending her to the airport and no one else was home apart from Patrick. This gave the place a lonely atmosphere, reminding Patrick that it was only him and his mother now in the Stump family, and as he passed the hallway leading to the front door, there was aching tug in his chest when his eyes caught on an old family portrait that was taken when he was a little boy, back when David was around.

Drawing his gaze away, he hurried out of his home. The drive to the Wentz family's residence was spent with Patrick listening to a few songs from Fall Down Guy's Folie Á Deux. So far, the album hadn't quite grown on him but Pete had told him many times that this album was a, to quote Pete, fucking masterpiece that deserved all the appreciation in the world. Ten minutes after he had left his did he arrive at his destination.

Parking his car in the Wentz family's garage, he was only taking his duffel bag from the boot when he heard footsteps. He turned to find Pete, dressed in old sweatpants and a worn-looking t-shirt. The dark haired boy moved to offer a hand to help Patrick out but Patrick waved him off.

"So, uh, Dad says you can sleep in the guest bedroom." Pete began as they made their way into his mansion. "But I was thinking that maybe you could sleep in mine instead." He added.

Patrick gave him a funny look, baffled. The truth was that he didn't want to be particularly intrusive during his brief stay and that he was hesitant to be directly on Pete's bad side should anything happen. "But it's your room." The strawberry blond protested as they passed the hallway. "I mean, it's your personal space and I don't want to intrude --"

"Nonsense." Pete scoffed when they ascended the stairs. On the first landing, he reasoned, "My room can definitely fit one more person and I don't see why we shouldn't share, seeing that we'll be brothers soon." He added.

And there that word was: brothers. The word made Patrick's stomach flutter uncomfortably. He didn't know how or why but whenever he pictured himself and Pete together in his head, it was always as friends and not as brothers. Still, the thought of both of them shaking hands while dressed in ugly sweaters plagued his mind. He must've worn a strange look on his face because Pete had slowed his pace and was regarding Patrick with concern.

"You okay there?"

Patrick gave a tiny start, looking up at Pete as they reached the top of the stairs. It took him a moment to process Pete's question. "Sure." He mumbled and the two were heading to Pete's room at the end of the hall when they bumped into Andrew.

The eldest of the Wentz siblings had been exiting his room, and when he saw both Pete and Patrick walking together an ill-suppressed scowl appeared on his features. Patrick did his best not to be bothered but some part of him clenched with apprehension.

Still, Patrick maintained his manners and greeted Andrew. "Good evening."

Andrew simply half-mumbled a reply before stalking off.

"Does he hate me? I still can't decide whether he does ..." Patrick said with a slight frown on his features as they entered Pete's room. The room looked exactly the same as it had been the first time Patrick came here. Not a thing was out of place, the books on his shelves were arranged by color, no dirty clothes strewn around - even his study desk was super organized and neat. Patrick wondered if Pete had a secret flair for keeping things tidy. If so, it didn't seem too bad.

Pete headed to the closet to retrieve something as Patrick went to examine the album collection. Sure enough, he found six albums Fall Down Guy, arranged in chronological order, when his eyes caught the sight of a familiar name. "Is that The Beatles?" He asked, surprised; Pete didn't seem the type that would listen to that genre.

Pete appeared from the closet, carrying a folded futon mattress. "What?" He frowned and then saw Patrick holding up The Beatles' compilation album. The dark-haired boy flushed, letting out a nervous laugh, and set the mattress down. "Yea ... I just thought I'd listen to their music, for fun."

Patrick narrowed his eyes but then decided not to inquire about that before playing the album. Soon, the music of The Beatles filled the atmosphere and Patrick hummed along, bobbing his head to the music.

"Quick question, Sophomore Stump." Pete said as he unfolded the mattress beside his bed. "You okay with it if I sleep on the floor?"

Patrick swiveled his head around, staring at Pete in confusion. "I'm sorry, what? It's fine I can sleep on the floor." He insisted, going over to Pete who was now going back to the closet to get a spare blanket. " _Pete_."

"No, you sleep on my bed." Pete waved him off.

"Why did you even bother to ask me to stay at your room?" Patrick was baffled. He felt bad, even though Pete insisted, that he'd take Pete's bed while the other boy slept on the floor.

"I  _did_  say it's big enough for the two of us." Pete pointed out rather stubbornly, skirting around Patrick's question. "Come on, it's fine." He reassured the younger boy firmly, patting Patrick's shoulder before he took a spare pillow. "I won't get kidnapped by the bogeyman at night, if that's what you're worried about." He added with a smirk when Patrick wore an aggrieved expression.

"Haha." Patrick elbowed Pete on the way out of the closet. The other boy laughed in response and went to set up the mattress, humming along to  _I Want To Hold Your Hand_  under his breath. Patrick stared at him from across the room in contemplation while he took his set of pjs from his bag. Guilt was coiling around his mind, hissing admonishingly that he shouldn't have accepted Pete's offer to stay in his room instead of Patrick being in the guest room.

Biting his lower lip, Patrick said, "Hey Pete?"

"Yea?"

"No, really I feel bad for making you sleep on the floor."

Pete let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his head back before he regarded Patrick over his shoulder through narrowed eyes behind his dark fringe. He was silent for long enough to make the younger boy uncomfortable. "Look." He said finally, getting up and approaching Patrick. "If you're so pressed about it, why don't we share the bed instead?" And when the strawberry blond didn't respond, he gave a shrug. "Gonna take that silence as a yes, then."

Patrick's mouth fell open, cheeks burning. He couldn't even tell if Pete, with that impassive look on his face, was joking or not. Suddenly he was unable to maintain holding gazes with Pete's and had to look away when he thought of the possibility that their bodies might be in very close proximity with each other. It wasn't the unintentional invasion of personal space that was the issue Patrick was fretting about, it was how his heart fluttered strangely at the notion of it.

He couldn't bear to look at Pete for the fear that the older boy might read his mind but Pete was storing the futon mattress, along with the spare blanket and pillow back in the closet with a mildly disappointed look like he had kinda wanted to sleep on the floor. Pete didn't notice how rigid Patrick had gone or how the red tint on his skin was concentrated on the younger boy's cheeks.

Perhaps it was best that way because Patrick himself couldn't even explain why or how he was starting to feel this way towards Pete.


	20. 1.8

The sounds of Pete practicing on his bass guitar to a particular song by Your Catalytic Relationship filled the room. Patrick was sitting on the bed, his nose buried in Pete's copy of  _Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix_ , with his legs crossed. After the strawberry blond had stored his luggage in Pete's closet, Patrick had done his best not to feel out of place by watching the older boy playing his musical instrument but it wasn't long till Patrick got bored.

Pete wasn't offering much of a conversation either, being so engrossed in getting the chords right that an intense frown had settled on his features, making him look more grumpy than concentrated. So Patrick had taken a look at Pete's bookshelf, which didn't offer a wide range of novels under the genre of Patrick's preference besides the Harry Potter series, JRR Tolkien's works and a particular series that Patrick hadn't gotten into called the Game Of Thrones. The rest were mostly sci-fi stories, none of which were the classics Patrick was familiar with, and a few self-help books.

To begin with, Patrick didn't think Pete was the sort who read because he did give off that sort of vibe but it was a pleasant surprise for him.

As Patrick's eyes followed the lines on the page where Harry Potter is brought to 12 Grimmauld Place by the Order of The Phoenix, his stomach grumbled loudly. He hadn't had dinner before he left his home and it was past his usual meal time. Pete, who had gone back to playing random riffs on his bass, frowned up at Patrick as though he had heard the noise.

The younger boy's face burned. "Was it that loud?" He asked, implying the grumble his stomach had made.

"No. Well,  _kinda_." Pete admitted, setting his musical instrument on the floor before unplugging it from its amp. "But, I'll pretend I didn't hear it if it makes you feel better."

"When do you usually have dinner?" Patrick asked, not wanting to directly admit that he was hungry and that he didn't want to seem like he was complaining. He checked his watch; it was forty-five minutes past seven.

Pete was approaching the bed before he collapsed onto it on his back right before Patrick's knees. There was a crooked sideways grin worn on his features as Pete regarded the younger boy. "We could always nick some food from the kitchen."

"Wouldn't that spoil our appetites?" Patrick frowned, not very taken by the idea of snacking before meal times especially when he was eager to try some of Andy's cooking.

Pete's smile faded into a narrow-eyed expression. "You could always wait till Dad comes home from work, like at eight thirty." When Patrick's eyes widened, the dark-haired boy continued. "Dad insists that we all have dinner together like a family, even though we're focused more on eating than actually sharing on how our day went, which I'm sure is how a proper family dinner is supposed to go. It's more of a silent thing, really."

"Oh." Patrick allowed that bit of information to sink it, his forehead creasing in the slightest. Whenever he had his evening meals back home, Patricia always made it a point for him to share how his day had went, even if it was mostly about school and whatnot; at least Patricia did show her concern. While Patrick couldn't opine about how Pete's family carried on with dinner, he couldn't help but wonder if this could be the cause of why the Wentz family members seemed not to get along with each other.

"... and not to get caught." As though someone had turned his hearing on, Patrick realized that Pete was saying something to him. It took him a moment to be aware that the older boy was looking at him expectantly now like he was awaiting Patrick's response.

The slightest tint of red painted the strawberry blond's cheeks from the embarrassment of not knowing exactly what Pete had told him. To keep up the pretense that he'd listened, Patrick nodded and said, "Um, yea sure. I'm good with that."

An impish sort of gleam played in those warm amber-colored eyes when Pete smirked. That was when Patrick had that momentary weightless sensation at the pit of his stomach like he had taken a confident step forward only to fall over clumsily; it was dizzying, at best, and scary, at worst, to feel that way.

"Awesome." Pete responded and sat up quickly. "Put on your socks, Pattycakes. We're carrying out a raid."

"A  _what_?" Patrick stared at Pete with incomprehension, already regretting to pretend that he had listened to what the older boy had said. He watched, sliding off the bed, as Pete disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a pair of socks.

"Are those mine?" Patrick asked.

"No. Yours are in your bag, remember?"

"Right." After Patrick retrieved his socks, he found Pete pulling his own over his feet, sitting on the floor. The socks were endearingly mismatched, one was a skeleton-patterned while the other was reindeer-patterned; they were definitely a stark contrast to Patrick's plain baby blue ones. Patrick's lips pulled upwards into a curve. "Isn't it too early for the holiday themed socks?"

"Nope." Pete replied and got up, beckoning Patrick over the shoulder to follow him. "But it's never too soon to get into the mood!"

*

"Why are we wearing these again?" Patrick asked, indicating his socks, as he and Pete were sneaking down the stairs down the hallway to the kitchen; sounds of Andy, the family chef, cooking could be heard, along with sweet melodic violin music. The strawberry blond found it ridiculous that Pete was moving around like he was doing a bad impression of either a burglar or a ninja.

"It muffles our footsteps and Andy has superhuman hearing." Pete whispered, perhaps too loudly to be inconspicuous. "Besides, I hate it when he lectures me whenever he catches me smuggling snacks before dinner." He added, half-grumbling. "' _Don't spoil your appetite, I've prepared delicious dishes and it'd be a shame if you can't fully enjoy it_.'" He mimicked the serious tone of Andy's although it was comical when he tried to copy the high-pitched but gentle and soft cadences the redheaded man spoke in.

"It's not my fault that Dad insists us to have dinner so late and that my stomach digests its food too fast." Pete added.

"You probably need to adjust your diet." Patrick suggested and Pete scowled at him.

The two boys peered round the doorjamb into the kitchen where Andy was preparing dinner, his back facing them as the man hummed along to the classical music playing over the audio system. Pete's eyes scanned the surroundings, zoning in on the cupboard and the fridge before he faced Patrick and made a series of complicated gestures. The younger boy stared at him blankly before Pete nodded and crept into the kitchen.

Patrick stared after him with a small frown when Pete gestured him to follow. Not resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the older boy, Patrick tiptoed inside. Despite how ridiculous the whole situation was going on, there was an electric buzzing of thrill in his veins; it was exciting in its own way. Before he could tell Pete that he looked absurd, Pete had placed a finger in between the air seal and opened the fridge door, managing not to make a sound before he swept over to the cupboard.

Patrick soon found a loaf of bread pushed into his arms, along with a packet of meat jerky and two lunch-pack juice boxes. Pete had managed to grab a large bag of chips and a jar of salsa dip. Apparently he pushed the door too hard, causing it to make an audible noise upon closing. Patrick had only a moment to stifle a gasp when the sound of Andy stopping whatever task he was doing happened simultaneously.

Without sparing a second, Pete pulled Patrick down so they were crouching and that the sight of them was obscured from Andy's view by the counter. At this point, Patrick was aware of his heart beat and breathing rate, not to mention how close Pete's body was to his and the pressure of Pete's hand gripping his shoulder. His skin was flushed from the suspense.

" _Move, now_." Pete whispered urgently and then the two boys were scooting out of the kitchen as fast as they could. Right after the door, Patrick couldn't help but throw a glance over his shoulder to see if Andy had caught them - he didn't, he just went back to cooking.

A triumphant grin tugged his the corners of his lips upwards. "We did it!" He exclaimed elatedly, though not exactly sure why he was happy about pulling off a successful kitchen raid with Pete as the older boy's accomplice.

Pete smiled back at him before nodding, satisfied with what they had managed to smuggle. "This is a good haul. It'll probably last us till the end of your stay if we're --"

Whatever Pete wanted to say after that was lost when they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind. The two boys froze with the fear of being caught red-handed before they slowly turned around.

Lewis was regarding them with a mild look of disapproval on his features, his eyes taking in the sight of both boys, in old t-shirts, shorts and socks, with their arms laden with food; no doubt it was obvious that they had the intention of snacking. It was evident that he had just returned from work by looking at his crisp gray suit and red tie, and the briefcase in his hand.

It wasn't entirely intentional but Patrick's body always seemed to stiffen at the sight of his stepfather-to-be and the feeling of unfamiliarity tightening around his chest. "Uh, hello, Lewis." Patrick greeted curtly.

Pete, on the other hand, gave his father a tight-lipped smile in a sheepish manner. "Hey, Dad. We're just ..." The older boy trailed off, glancing furtively down at the food in his arms. " _Yea_  ..."

"Boys." Lewis said, by way of greeting, when he smiled at Patrick. "Patricia told me you're staying with us for the next three days."

Patrick nodded, averting his gaze away from Lewis'. The awkward tension around him seemed to coil, making the whole situation rather uncomfortable.

"I hope you'll enjoy your time with us. It'll be a good way for all of us to get to know each other better." Lewis responded rather pleasantly, despite Patrick's sudden shift in behavior. "Even if it's just snack raids." The man added, causing Pete's face to flush red from guilt. "I'll see you two at dinner." With that, Lewis continued down the hallway past the two boys.

Pete stared after his father for a few moments, a look of something Patrick couldn't decipher before he turned to the younger boy, clapping Patrick on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get the food upstairs." He said, in an oddly subdued voice.

*

Patrick stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to will himself into forgetting how anxious he felt about having dinner with the Wentz family, which wasn't going too well. He probably shouldn't have had that slice of bread earlier as his stomach was twisting and turning in the most uncomfortable manner, ruining what was left of his appetite.

With a sigh, he turned the faucet on and splashed cool water in his face in efforts to bring his mind away from listening to his anxious thoughts that went along the lines of making some offhand comment out of necessity that would cause an awkward silence or accidentally saying something that might upset the members of the Wentz family.

Under different circumstances, Patrick wouldn't be worrying about this but now that he had to stay under their roof for the meantime this suddenly became a large concern for him, even if he was certain he was well taught with good manners. "You can do this." Patrick told his reflection. "Just make small talk and be sure to chew with your mouth closed --"

A series of loud knocks startled Patrick out of his pep talk. Hastily, he dried his face before rushing to unlock the bathroom door. "Sorry." He mumbled apologetically to the person standing outside, whom he realized belatedly was Andrew.

The eldest of the Wentz siblings was looking at Patrick with a sour expression although why he always seemed to be annoyed with Patrick's existence in general remained a mystery for now. "Glad to see that you didn't drown yourself in the toilet." He said with a curl of his upper lip.

Patrick frowned up at Andrew. He hadn't the slightest idea what made this boy tick him off so much and if Patrick had to endure the next three days with Andrew and this behavior of his without knowing why he acted this way, Patrick didn't want that. So he asked, "Have I done something to offend you?"

Andrew scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Not at all. I just don't like you, in general." His gaze traveled up and down Patrick with contempt gleaming visibly.

"Well, that isn't really a valid reason to be nasty. Besides, I haven't wronged you." Patrick shot back, aggrieved. "And if it's just my being here that irritates you, I'll have you know that I'm here because Patricia thought it would be best if I got to know all you better while she's away."

"Yea,  _sure_." Andrew sneered. "Or maybe you're just here because you want to hang around Pete." When Patrick turned a bright and furious shade of red, Andrew continued in the same disparaging tone. "Don't think I noticed how you're always with him instead of making the effort of talking to either me or Hilary whenever you come over?" He demanded.

Patrick's cheeks burned as he glared at Andrew indignantly. "It's not as if the both of you want to actually  _know_  me as a person." He snapped. "At least Pete tries his best unlike you. Come to think of it, you haven't been really nice from the beginning for starters."

Andrew pretended not to hear Patrick's last sentence instead laughed derisively. "Maybe that's what  _you_  think: Pete being very nice and all. But the way I see it, it's because he knows  _you're just like him_."


	21. 1.9

Patrick may have had chosen to do the smarter thing - or the loser's way out, depending on how one chose to perceive it - when Andrew confronted him earlier but now he was starting to feel as if he was proving Andrew right. The moment he entered the dining area, silently smoldering from Andrew's comment, he didn't even think twice about sitting down next to Pete at the table.

It was too late to change seats as both Hilary and Andrew had taken their places across where Patrick and Pete were, while Lewis sat at the head of the table. Patrick forced his features to remain impassive but he really wanted to smack that condescending smile off Andrew's face.

Andy and Antonia entered the dining room and began to serve them dinner, which consisted of yakisoba, a few types of sushi that Patrick didn't quite catch the names of, miso soup and green tea - dessert was to be served once the main course was eaten.

"I hope you're alright with Japanese food for dinner." Lewis said and Patrick thought that was very belated of him to mention so but then the meal was beckoning him so the boy didn't give it much thought.

Patrick picked up his chopsticks and tucked into his meal. He particularly liked how Andy had fried the soba noodles, managing to blend in the flavors of the meat, cabbages, carrots and red ginger. It was just so good - or maybe that was just because he was  _that_  hungry - that he didn't even notice the lack of conversation at the table.

"You should try this." Pete said to the strawberry blond, placing a sushi on the younger boy's plate.

"What's this called?" Patrick asked.

"Um, I'm not sure what the name is but it's eel. I think it's called unagi or something like that." Pete said, frowning a bit like he was trying hard to remember something. "You're not allergic to it, right?"

Patrick shook his head and bit into the sushi. It was only when he paused to check himself that he saw Andrew smirking in Patrick and Pete's direction, that crooked set of his smile that spoke of mockery. The sushi didn't taste as good as before anymore.

Encouraged by Pete whom had spoken earlier, Lewis decided to take this opportunity to start a conversation. "So, Patrick." He began in a light tone. "Your mother told me you were intrested in photography."

For some reason, Patrick's mind had flashed back to the time when he had secretly taken pictures of Lewis in the country club's changing room on that impulse of wanting pictures to compare with photos of his father; it felt like ages ago and Patrick now wondered what had gone on in his head that drove him to act that way. Attempting to cover up the cough of surprise, Patrick took a quick sip of his green tea, which was still a bit hot for his liking, and nearly scalded his tongue.

With a suppressed wince, Patrick managed a small "Yea." He cleared his throat, nodding. "I mean, yes I do enjoy photography."

"Yea he has this really cool photo-printing camera." Pete chimed in.

" _Polaroid_." Patrick corrected him but not with some amusement in his tone while Pete grinned sheepishly at his mistake.

"Whatever. It's rad as fu-  _frick_." Pete filtered his words.

"It's just one of my favorites." Patrick almost added that it was because it used to belong to David but then it was probably a bit inconsiderate to bring up his father's name in front of the man whom his mother was going to marry so Patrick bit back at the last moment.

It came as no surprise that Hilary and Andrew didn't participate in the conversation but at least they seemed almost interested, Patrick thought.

"Ah." Lewis responded, helping himself to an onigiri. "Do you have any other interests besides photography?"

"Probably gardening or reading boring old books." Andrew snickered under his breath. Lewis, Patrick and Pete glared at him simultaneously, causing the eldest Wentz sibling to become embarrassed of his own comment. "Well, he does look like that kind of person." Andrew said defensively.

"Andrew, I'd like to have a word with you after dinner. And do be a bit nicer to Patrick, he'll be your brother soon and it would be good if you could all get along together." Lewis chided, making Andrew to turn bright pink. Patrick was glad at seeing him getting pinned for being obnoxious.

"And Patrick doesn't have a lame taste in books." Pete added. For what reason he said this when Patrick specifically recalled Pete telling the younger boy that he had boring preferences, it was a mystery. But Patrick did appreciate Pete for speaking that out. "So is there anything else you like besides taking pictures and stuff?" Pete asked.

Patrick bit his lip, shrugging slightly. "Well, I used to play music when I was younger." He answered.

"Dude, I didn't know you played any instruments!" Pete exclaimed through a mouthful of sushi, much to Patrick's and Lewis' disapproving looks.

"Really?" Andrew's eyebrows arched, completing the exaggerated tone he was using; he seemed to have recovered from his embarrassment. Patrick scowled at him while the eldest of the Wentz siblings continued, "Didn't Patrick tell you that, Pete, seeing that you two have been spending a lot more time  _together_  lately." The amount of mockery and contempt in his voice went completely unnoticed to those at the table who weren't present earlier when Andrew confronted Patrick.

The strawberry blond felt his face flush hotly and had to bite the insides of his mouth from swearing at Andrew. "It never came up." Patrick responded curtly, clipping off every syllable, and began to finish off his yakisoba in an almost ferocious manner. He was chewing his food as though he was crunching bone with teeth made out of steel.

Pete gave Patrick a worried look for the briefest of moments before cutting his gaze across to Andrew who was smirking to himself. He didn't put two and two together but there was the wary way he regarded his brother that indicated his suspicions.

"But what instruments did you play?" Lewis asked.

"Piano, mostly. But I used to play violin until --" Patrick caught himself, almost slipping his father's name out. "Well, I gave up on it." He lied, feeling an odd twinge of small betrayal in his chest. It didn't seem fair that David didn't get a mention for teaching Patrick to play instruments. He must've given out the vibe that he didn't wish to keep up with the conversation anymore because Lewis nodded and returned to finishing the rest of his meal.

Once the main course was eaten, Andy and Antonia began to serve dessert but Patrick had pretty much lost his appetite to eat, especially after Pete kept asking him to try the sushi while unwittingly giving Andrew the satisfaction of proving himself right when Patrick did as Pete told him to without question. Patrick got up and excused him politely from the table.

He was barely entering the hallway when Pete caught up with him from behind. "Hey, you alright there?" The dark-haired boy asked, his casual tone carrying an undertone of concern.

Patrick opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. He didn't want to seem like he wasn't enjoying himself because that seemed impolite so he shook his head and smiled apologetically. "Yea, I am. Thanks for asking."

Pete pursed his lips thoughtfully, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Oh." He said, sounding a bit disappointed. "Oh, okay then. I'll see you in a bit, yea?" Backing tentatively one step at a time, he nodded slowly and gave Patrick a mock salute, turning on his heel.

The younger boy would've left right away if Pete hadn't smacked face-first into the doorjamb. Patrick let out a muffled cry of surprise at the same time Pete swore loudly. "Who put  _this_  here?" He scowled at the doorframe, his ears turning red when he was aware of the strawberry blond doing his best to keep a straight face but failing to do so as he was snickering. "You never saw that." Pete told Patrick and returned to the dining room.

Once the dark-haired boy was out of sight, Patrick felt the grin slide from his face like condensation rolling down the window, millimeter by millimeter before all at once. Lapsing into thoughtless silence, he made his way up the stairs to Pete's room. There he stood by the door and took in the sight of the place, wondering how Pete could manage to keep his room so neat and organized. It took a few moments for Patrick to realize the soft scratching sound was coming from Pete's turntable.

His reaction was automatic as he strode over to lift the needle from contact, feeling his stomach tighten with apprehension as he picked up the vinyl gently, examining for any damage. Once he was certain that there was no damage done, he slipped the vinyl back in its sleeve and sat down on Pete's bed, suddenly feeling weary all over. Lying back on the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling with his hands clasped loosely over his abdomen.

Patrick's mind began to think back about what had happened at dinner, or more specifically, about Andrew's behavior. He didn't have a clue why Pete's older brother was being nasty to him at all and the thought of having to put up with Andrew's attitude every day put strawberry blond off. It was no wonder, Patrick thought, that Pete implied that Andrew wasn't a great person.

 _You're just here because you want to hang around Pete_. Andrew's sneering voice rose unbidden in Patrick's head.

The boy's chest constricted and suddenly he felt insulted. What did Andrew know about Patrick anyway and who was he to judge? Patrick was betting that he was just a pretentious loser who pushed his weight around just because he had attitude and self-esteem issues.

But some part of Patrick agreed with Andrew, more than he'd actually admit aloud. There was just something about being around Pete that put Patrick at ease, making him forget the fact that he had promised himself to keep a safe distance from any members of the Wentz family. That and the way he could effortlessly put a smile on Patrick's face and make him feel better. Even the thought of Pete seemed to lift his spirits.

Pete was special that way, unlike anyone Patrick had ever met.

 _Maybe that's what_  you  _think: Pete being very nice and all_. That nasty voice of Andrew spoke once more and it took Patrick all his willpower not to shout at himself. With an angry sigh, he sat up and clambered off the bed. Images of Andrew sneering down at him began to cloud his mind, setting him into a very indignant and pissy state. His face was hot from being so frustrated for proving that jerk right.

Anyway, wasn't Andrew right after all?

Right from the moment Patrick and Pete first hung out here at the Wentz residence, Patrick had only wanted to be around Pete until the present was because the older had become familiar to Patrick and because he knew deep inside that he was afraid of the unfamiliar.

And maybe that was because why he initially had his misgivings when he saw the way Patricia and Lewis looked at each other the same way his mother and father used to.

Suddenly, Patrick began to feel very angry and disappointed with himself. "It was a  _mistake_  agreeing to this." He exclaimed loudly, hearing his voice shake. Striding over to the closet, he went to pick up his bag and slung it over the shoulder, feeling the backs of his eyes burn with frustration. He strode his way across the room, biting his lower lip furiously in efforts to suppress the burning sensation in his chest.

Just when his hand had barely touched the doorknob, the door opened. The movement knocked his fingers painfully, causing Patrick to yelp pathetically and jump back.

Pete, who was the person behind the door, gave out a surprised cry. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" His voice rose shrilly as the boy reached out to check Patrick's hand; he sudden contact made the strawberry blond almost leap out of his skin. Pete's fingers brushed over Patrick's with gentleness as a mask of worry and guilt was set upon his features.

Patrick was almost tempted to let Pete continue, the older boy's touch seemingly putting him at ease when he remembered what he was initially planning to do. He drew his hand away from Pete immediately. "I'm fine." He said flatly, looking away from Pete's eyes.

"Oh." Pete sounded relieved when he realized Patrick was carrying his bag. A look of alarm and confusion crossed his features. "Wait, where are you going?"

Patrick refused to let his will to waver. "I'm going to the guest room." He announced in a resolute tone. "I decided it was best if I sleep there for the rest of my stay here."

" _What?_ " Pete was bewildered, staring at the younger boy as though he had lost his mind somewhere. He began to splutter. "But Patrick, I thought you were okay with sharing my room --"

Patrick now had the courage to look Pete in the eye. "I appreciate it but Pete, it's  _your_  room and  _your_  personal space and I'm damn sure that I'll only be intruding if I stay there longer." It wasn't the lie that he told that made his chest ache with guilt but because of Pete's expression, which was an admixture of confusion, hurt and disappointment.

"But you're not intruding anything." Pete said softly but anyone could hear how upset he was. That was the dangerous moment when Patrick's determination teetered precariously.

The younger boy turned away once more and felt that feeling evaporate; it was best if he dropped the bomb without looking at Pete anyway. "Besides, it's downstairs anyway and it's closer to the kitchen in case I want a midnight snack." He tried for a light tone but it ended up sounding strained.

Pete didn't respond.

Patrick nodded to himself and left with every step feeling like he was tearing a bits of him with each step.

*

" _So you're at Pete's house??_ _Fucking_ _cool!_ " Jon exclaimed on his part of the screen of Patrick's laptop. " _What is it like? Is it big? I mean of course it is - he's_ _goddamned_ _loaded!_ "

" _Why do I have a feeling you just want to be Pete's friend because he's rich._ " Mikey sighed in exasperation from his part of the screen, shaking his head with a petulant scowl on his face. " _You should just marry him instead if you're so_ _obsessed_ _with his wealth._ " He added derisively.

" _Oh shush, you_." Jon flashed a finger but Patrick knew it was meant for Mikey. " _You're just jealous that I actually have the determination to make connections while you sit in the library reading geeky sci-fi stuff_."

Patrick watched as his best friends bickered onscreen, annoyed that they had chosen this time to argue when all Patrick wanted was to talk to them over Skype so he could distract himself from seeing Pete's crestfallen features flashing in his head. "Guys, shut up." He said suddenly, effectively cutting through Mikey's and Jon's argument. "Please." He sighed, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face.

Both Jon and Mikey regarded him with concern, forgetting to be mad at each other. It was Mikey who spoke first. " _We're sorry for being so selfish._ " The bespectacled boy said contritely. " _But, are you doing alright?_ "

" _Yea, you looked like you wanted to snap someone's neck and cry at the same time when you came online_." Jon observed blatantly.

" _Excellent observation, Jonathan Jacob Walker_." Mikey scowled, rolling his eyes. " _You deserve a gold star_."

" _Why, thank you_." Jon replied brightly, either completely missing the heavy sarcasm or just being plain ignorant.

"He's actually right." Patrick said, much to Mikey's and Jon's surprise. "Well,  _almost_  right. I want to snap Andrew's neck and scream at him." He added without inflection.

" _Figuratively, right?_ " Jon looked concerned. " _Like, I can't imagine you doing that literally because you're too soft and pure for violence but sure, go ahead. I support_  one thousand percent."

"You don't even know the whole story." Patrick frowned at his best friend. "Why are even you agreeing with me?"

" _I don't need to know. Besides, we all know Andrew is a huge jerk, even back when he was in Youngblood Prep_."

" _I don't know that_." Mikey looked confused.

" _Well, most of us know while a small percentage that may or may not include the ignorant sci-fi geek Mikey Way_ _don't_." Jon remarked.

" _Hey!_ "

"Was he?" Patrick mumbled.

" _Oh yea. He and his gang with that dude, whatshisname, Leon_." Jon said, nodding. " _Kicked me in the ribs when I wore a Pride badge for my sister_."

"Did you say Leon?"

" _Yes he did._ " Mikey affirmed. " _That guy's in my brother's History class. Gerard told me that Leon called him a gay-_ _ass_ _twink_ _who deserved to have his_ _ass_ _destroyed_." The bespectacled boy sounded very angry.

" _To be honest, your brother does kinda look like a_ _twink_." Jon mumbled. "Not," he added when Mikey grew red in anger. " _That he deserves to be called names that manner_."

"So they're homophobic jerks?" Patrick asked just to make sure.

" _Yes_." Both Mikey and Jon answered.

"Oh." Patrick bit his lip, his mind racing towards the possibility that Pete might have been the subject of Leon's hate because of his sexuality; it did make sense. He stifled a yawn and glanced at the time; it was almost midnight. "It's getting late and we have school tomorrow. Goodnight, guys." He told his best friends and disconnected from the video call.

Placing his laptop on the spot beside him, Patrick slid under the covers and closed his eyes. But seconds began to tick by, forming minutes until they spanned into an hour when Patrick came to the realization that he couldn't sleep. He had been tossing and turning but couldn't manage to get a wink of sleep.

The guest room where he was staying, despite its size, felt stifling. He kicked off his covers and tried again to sleep but it stayed frustratingly out of reach. Too exhausted by the effort, Patrick slid off the bed and felt his way through the dark to the door and opened it. Light from the hallway spilled into his room and he had to squint against the sudden illumination.

After adjusting, Patrick left the room. Something had seized his brain, wiping it blank of any hesitation or doubt. He had almost reached the stairs when he bumped into Hilary. Patrick was so focused on reaching his destination that he didn't to notice that the girl looked like she was dressed for the night out, smelling faintly of perfume with her face all dolled up - no doubt she was sneaking out.

"Have a good night." He said, instead of warning her and ignored the confused stare she gave him. Patrick made his way upstairs towards a particular door. He didn't even stop to think about how Andrew would gloat at him if he found out.

The strawberry blond knocked the door, tentatively at first. He called out softly through it until he heard shuffling from inside. He waited patiently until the lock clicked and the door opened, revealing Pete behind it. Before the older boy could ask what was going on, Patrick asked,"I'm sorry about earlier but I can't sleep. Can I sleep in your room instead?"


	22. 2.0

Patrick realized it was probably a bad decision to sleep over at Pete's room after about five minutes of being in there.

Pete didn't seem to be planning to sleep at all, despite the fact that they had school the next day. As soon as Patrick entered his dark room, he was aware of a bright light emitted from somewhere on Pete's bed. It had taken him a few moments of squinting at it to register that the source of the illumination was Pete's laptop.

"Um, what are you doing?" The younger boy questioned, coming to the slow realization that Pete was shirtless and the fact that he was watching something in the dark. He could feel his face heating up at the thoughts of the possible things that Pete could've been doing.

Patrick could see Pete's silhouette against the light coming from the older boy's laptop; Pete was looking at him over his shoulder. "Watching porn." Pete replied shamelessly.

"PETE!" Patrick exclaimed in horror, beginning to splutter in a scandalized manner. He could hear Pete's laughter above the sound of his blood pulsing in his ears. "T-That's not very --"

"I'm just joking.  _Sheesh_." Pete's face became visible after he climbed onto bed and was repositioning his laptop. "And besides, it's not like you haven't seen a sex scene or two at least once in your life. Chill out, Sophomore Stump." He chuckled, tucking his legs under the sheets before leaning back on the headboard.

Patrick sat down at the edge of the mattress tentatively because he was really unsure whether Pete really meant what he had said or if he was just messing around. He braced himself for a really graphic image on Pete's screen but only saw a scene of children exploring a house. Curiosity had Patrick in its grasp, silencing the exhaustion that was instructing his body to take a break. "What are you watching?" He asked, peering over.

Pete glanced at him and gestured for him to sit closer. "Some movie, I guess. Not an adult one. You seem interested." He remarked with a hint of amusement as Patrick settled himself comfortably beside Pete.

"Interested is an overstatement." Patrick said but Pete was right about him - the strawberry blond just didn't want to admit it aloud. He and Pete were sitting almost shoulder-to-shoulder now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the older boy's body but just barely brushing each other's skin. Patrick felt a small fluttering mass of nervousness by being in this proximity with Pete but there was content bubbling its warmth in his veins.

Pete glanced over at him, amused by Patrick's response before he turned his attention back to his laptop screen. There had been something in his gaze, something Patrick had caught but couldn't immediately identify. Then again, it was too dark to see and that gleam probably could've been from the light reflecting off Pete's champagne eyes so Patrick didn't give it much thought as he probably should have.

*

"I hate you." Patrick was saying past the pillow that was clamped over his ears while his eyes were squeezed shut. He could hear the muffled screams terror coming from Pete's laptop. "I came here to sleep, not to watch some demonic horror movie."

Pete gave him a pointed look but the slight curve on the left corner of his mouth gave it all away. He shook his head, snickering. "The movie isn't even scary."

"It is!"

"Well, who asked you to watch it with me?" Pete smirked at Patrick, who was cracking an eye open to check whether the scene had ended or not. The older boy was closing the application before he shut his laptop, allowing the room to fall into darkness. "There, now you can sleep." He said.

Somehow Patrick felt as though he had thrown a tantrum and had gotten his way but felt very bad about it his own actions. Even if it was too dark to see, Patrick knew Pete was lying down beside him. He turned his face to the general direction of the older boy and said, "It's totally okay if you wanted to continue watching the movie. Well, I didn't mean to make it sound like --"

"Shh." Pete hushed him and then Patrick felt Pete's hand patting the small of his back. He was grateful that the older boy couldn't see him as his cheeks were flushing with heat. "Get some sleep, Pattycakes. Gotta wake up bright and early tomorrow for school."

The strawberry blond frowned slightly, wondering what wad going on, before he settled back on the mattress. Suddenly, he became all too aware that he was lying on the same bed with Pete, who was a few inches away from him and was very shirtless. He realized how his stomach began to twist nervously when he felt Pete shift beside him and how fast his heart was going when he heard Pete hum, sounding a lot like he was facing Patrick.

"So." Pete began. "I'm Pete Wentz."

Patrick frowned, very much tired and confused to even consider that the older boy might've been messing around. "I ... know that??" He yawned.

"Great." The other boy responded strangely. "Not that I'm not cool with it but, like, why did you want to sleep in the guest room only to come back earlier?" There was no trace of any undertones suggesting that Pete was miffed about Patrick's actions, just the hint of curiosity coloring his otherwise casual air.

Patrick sighed as hesitation pulled him back from speaking. Even if Pete had expressed his dislike for his older brother, Patrick felt like it was rude to complain about Andrew and make it seem like he wasn't inclined to get along with the Pete's older brother. But if anything, it was probably best to let it out. "Well ..." The strawberry blond began, biting his lip tentatively. "It's complicated, really."

"Try me." Pete challenged. "I mean, I might not be able to give proper advice but I could try." Pete added and the covers began to shift.

Patrick had this distinct feeling that Pete was now facing him; instead of moving away, Patrick found himself turning to lie on his side so he was facing Pete. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and now he could see the faint outline of Pete's body across him.

"Okay, fine." Patrick relented. The hesitation obstructing the words from escaping began to dissolve and allowed him to speak. "It's Andrew." He could sense, rather than see, Pete tensing. "Well, more or less about your brother but kinda because I was mad at myself."

"Wait why would you be mad at yourself?" Pete demanded, sounding confused. "And what does that have anything to do with Andrew."

"I did tell you it was complicated."

"Oh, shush, you. Now spill."

Patrick did as he was told and began to recount what had happened earlier that night. He was careful to make the part about Andrew's opinion of him vague in hopes that it would slip past Pete. "But he's right. I haven't made any effort to _get to know_  your siblings."

"Well, I can't say that I don't agree with him." Pete responded; even though Patrick had been anticipating this response at the back of his mind, he was still caught by surprise. "But that doesn't give him to right to press you that way - like, Hilary's pretty closed-off and he's just plain rude and offensive, so I can see why you're hesitating to talk to them."

" _Exactly_." Patrick exhaled, relieved that someone was finally seeing it from his point of view.

"Is that why you're mad at yourself?" Pete questioned curiously. "Because he's right?"

"Yes." Patrick replied. "But partially. I've given it some thought and I realized that I don't like the unfamiliar. I don't like being forced out of my comfort zone - it makes me feel vulnerable."

Pete was quiet for some time; there was something about his lack of response that suggested he was contemplating Patrick's words. Whatever the case, the silence made Patrick feel nervous and he wished that Pete would say something. "Is that why you didn't want to hang out with us at first? Or when you constantly make excuses when I invite you over?"

"Yes." Patrick answered and winced, realizing how forward his reply sounded. "But that was because I wanted to keep my distance from your family."

When Pete didn't respond to him, panic began to set in Patrick's blood. His insides wrung themselves with fear that he'd somehow offended the older boy. His mind tried to come up with anything he could say to lessen the impact of how crude his words were on Pete.

"I was  _scared_ , okay? I was scared that I might, I dunno, that you might just make fun of me or not accept me into the family." Patrick said. "Okay, I've seen stories of stepfamilies being mean and I didn't want that to happen to  _me_. Not only that, I grew up as the only child in my family and I've no idea how having siblings actually work and - and --"

" _Jesus Christ, Patrick_! I get it, alright? I get it." Pete exclaimed, sounding almost exasperated.

"You do?" Patrick looked at the dark outline of Pete with a mix of fear and relief. " _Seriously??_ "

"Well, I think I do." Pete said rather defensively and then there was a bright flare of light.

Patrick squinted, eyes stinging from the sudden illumination when they adjusted; he saw Pete sitting up, drawing his hand away from the lamp on his nightstand. Shadows played on Pete's features, accentuating the frown he was wearing on his features. Patrick had also forgotten Pete was shirtless so he was surprised for a moment to see Pete's bare upper body.

"You've grown up having it all laid out for you, had all the best things your parents could give you and you were comfortable with that." Pete began, settling back on the mattress so he was now facing Patrick, his arm propping up his head. Perhaps it was just Patrick overreacting inwardly but he found this action intimate and foreign at the same time.

Pete sighed. "And I understand that it's all very new when your mom told you about my dad, so it freaked you out because this will expose you to something new that  
you're not comfortable with. And it's okay to feel scared of new things but sometimes, you just gotta accept it and live with it - well, literally for our case, because I think you and Patricia are moving in with us. But yea ... you get my point right?"

"Yea." Patrick replied slowly.

"It's really not that complicated." Pete said and drawing the sheets up to his chin so only his face was visible.

"Yea." Patrick frowned at his lame response and cleared his throat. "Okay. Well ... that's good to know."

Pete chuckled, a sound that seemed to reach into Patrick's chest and play with his heartstrings the way his smile made Patrick's head swim. "You're too adorable sometimes. Are you sure you're fifteen?" He said teasingly.

Patrick's face began to heat up from Pete's comment; the first half of it had his pulse racing. "S-sixteen. I'm sixteen, actually." He blurted, his tongue tripping up.

"Huh." Pete responded but he didn't seem to be listening. "Wow, I can't believe I'm a year older than you. I thought you were three years younger than me or something."

"Do I seriously give out that vibe?"

"I guess it's just your vibe and the way you act. Like a sweet choirboy from church or a really soft and cuddly teddy bear." Pete grinned and reached to pinch Patrick's face playfully.

Patrick yelped, scowling as he smacked Pete's hand away. "Don't do that." He tried to warn Pete in a serious tone but his voice quavered when the older boy laughed, making Patrick forget to be annoyed of his cheeky antic. A small smile played on his lips. "Seriously,  _Peter_. I mean it."

"Whatever." Pete stuck out his tongue. "Sweet dreams, Fuzzy." He said with a wink - Patrick's heart nearly flew out of his chest from the surprise - and turned over to sleep on his right.

Lying on his back, Patrick stared up at the ceiling. He was now very aware of how close his and Pete's body were; not that the bed was too small to be shared, in fact it was king-sized, but they had somehow managed to meet in the center with three inches of space separating them. There was something about the moment, 

perhaps it had been the warmth radiating off Pete or just the fact that Patrick wasn't sleeping alone in a house that wasn't his, but Patrick felt safe and content next to Pete.

And sleep approached him, finally embracing Patrick in its arms.


	23. 2.1

Patrick awoke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of indistinct noise in Pete's room and the sensation of something warm beside him. Exhaling, he opened his eyes groggily and blinked against the harsh light spilling into the room. A part of his mind was annoyed that it was too bright and that he wanted to go back to sleep.

Groaning, he turned onto his side, facing the source of warmth and snuggled into it appreciably, feeling comforted and content. Whatever the source was, Patrick thought it smelled nice, like a mix of soap and fresh laundry. But after a few moments, his consciousness began to kick into his mind followed by a nagging feeling that something was amiss. His brain was still processing the input from his surroundings when he remembered.

Patrick's eyes flew wide open as he inhaled sharply. He sat up abruptly, nearly jarring his wrist in the process. "School!" He exclaimed, sounding panicked. He began to kick the sheets off his legs and was beginning to get off the bed when he realized that this wasn't his room. Patrick was confused.

"I've never seen someone get up so fast from bed before." Patrick turned to see who was talking to find Pete staring at him with a funny expression. Unlike the younger boy, Pete seemed unconcerned about the fact that they were nearly two hours late for school and was casually eating a banana while watching a video on his laptop. "And good morning to you too." Pete added when Patrick stared at him in puzzlement.

"We're late for school and all  _you_  can do is eat a banana  _and_  watch Youtube?" Patrick demanded, nonplussed.

"I never liked it anyway." Pete replied like it was a valid reason. "Besides, you looked so cute sleeping there like you were having a nice dream, all snuggled up like burrito --"

" _What?_ " Patrick felt his cheeks burn, partially because he was confused and embarrassed that the older boy had called him but mostly because Pete had actually taken the time to think Patrick was  _cute_. He didn't know what to feel about that, much less say anything to bring the conversation back to the matter of being late for school.

"I mean I  _could_  wake you up but I didn't."

"Wow Pete, I never noticed that." Patrick deadpanned.

Pete snickered. "Damn, that sass though." He grinned and ate the rest of his banana. "If you keep that up, I might have to call you Sasstrick."

Patrick didn't respond to that statement, instead he tried to changed the topic. "When did you wake up?"

"About two hours ago." Pete said distractedly, his fingers clacking away on the keyboard.

" _Pete!_ "

"What?" Pete frowned up at Patrick, who was glaring pointedly at him and had his arms crossed. The dark-haired boy sighed, belatedly picking up on the reason why Patrick was angry and rolled his eyes. "It's only a day." Pete argued.

"You do know how  _many_  hours we have to spend at school learning, right?" Patrick demanded.

"Yea, but not everything in life is centered around academics." Pete pointed out.

"Pete! I  _need_  education to achieve my ambitions!" Patrick shot back exasperatedly.

" _Not_  necessarily, Sophomore Stump. Besides, look at the perks! No work for a day, your brain will be relaxed, you won't have to deal with some of the shit people at Youngblood and we could hang out together." Pete grinned at him but Patrick could see stubbornness flashing in his eyes.

Making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, Patrick spun on his heel and crossed the room towards the door. There was no way around Pete, who was determined to miss a day of school. But just before he could touch the doorknob, Pete called out, "If you wanted to shower, your bag is in the closet."

Patrick stopped and turned.

Pete was watching him in the same position he had been when Patrick woke up: his back against the headboard, legs stretched out with his laptop on his thighs. "I brought it upstairs when you were sleeping." The older boy added.

Patrick bit his lip and approached the closet. He found his bag and unzipped it, preparing to take his school uniform out from it. Then he hesitated.

Pete was right. It was almost two hours past the first lesson and it would be awfully complicated to explain to his homeroom teacher about his lateness. And even if there were notes to be copied or homework to be done, he could always ask Mikey or Jon or anyone from his classes. And if he had trouble understanding today's work, Patrick could - though he doubted - ask Pete to help him out.

The moment of indecisiveness had caused Patrick to stare at his bag's contents for about three minutes before he shook himself out of it. Biting his lower lip, he pulled out a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and clean underwear.

"Did you find Narnia in there?" Pete asked when Patrick emerged from the closet.

"I am going to shower." The strawberry blond announced, completely ignoring Pete's questions before he entered the bathroom.

*

As the warm water ran over his body, dripping off his eyelashes and his finger tips, Patrick still had the nagging sense of missing out a lot from school today. The feeling remained clinging on his back the whole time he cleaned himself up. As he stepped out of the shower, he picked up a neatly folded fluffy towel from the basket in the corner and dried himself off.

It was only when he was drying his hair did he notice, distractedly, that he smelled like Pete. Putting on his clothes, he exited the bathroom to find a Pete-less room. Music was playing from the stereo system but other than that, it was very quiet. The laptop that the older boy had been using earlier was shut and placed on his study desk.

With a frown, Patrick clutched his dirty laundry in his hands and went outside to the hallway. He made sure to do so carefully, keeping out for any signs of Andrew in case the eldest Wentz sibling decided to pick on him. There wasn't any sign of him, although Patrick felt rather anxious about the notable absence as he made his way downstairs. The strawberry blond entered the kitchen, peering around when he saw Pete at the counter, humming and busy making food.

Now that he wasn't admonishing the older boy for not waking him up, Patrick felt a bit guilty that he had been mad at Pete. Biting his lower lip, he approached and said, "I'm sorry about raising my voice at you earlier."

Pete turned around, wearing raised eyebrows. "Oh that's cool." He waved his hand dismissively. "And I'm sorry about not waking you up sooner. I honestly thought you might've --" There was a funny look on his face. "Well, never mind. Laundry area's that way." Pete said, raising his finger to point at the direction. "Oh, and I'm making breakfast for you and me."

"Okay."

When Patrick returned from putting his dirty laundry in the washing machine, he returned to find Pete beating eggs in a bowl with a mask of concentration. The younger boy watched as Pete went to look for a frying pan. "So, scrambled eggs or just a simple omelet?" Pete asked.

"Anything's fine." As Patrick didn't want Pete to do all the work by himself, so he offered to make coffee for Pete and tea for himself. In no time, breakfast was ready.

Pete had whipped up a plate of eggs and bacon for each of them. Patrick was mildly surprised to see that Pete had done a good job at preparing breakfast; the bacons weren't burnt, the eggs tasted perfect. He was nibbling on a piece of bacon when curiosity got the best of him. "Did Andy teach you how to cook?" The strawberry blond asked.

Pete was sipping his coffee, scrolling through his phone when he glanced up at Patrick. He pressed his lips together. For a moment, there was a look on the older boy's face that Patrick had seen on himself - and the younger boy instinctively knew what he'd say.

"My mom." Pete said, confirming Patrick's suspicions. His voice had gone softer than he usually spoke, the way Patrick would sometimes, the muted hint of an admixture of longing, grief and sadness in his tone. "She ... She was an awesome mother, taught me a lot of stuff and she was really the best but --" Pete shook his head, taking a sip from his coffee. "She's gone."

It was the way Pete had said that last statement, the hesitant finality in his tone, that struck something in Patrick's chest: the realization that despite the fact that they were two different boys, they had both felt the pain of losing a parent the same way, went through the same process of grief, and were standing here today with memories in their minds.

And Patrick felt guilty. He knew what it was like to feel those painful twinges whenever someone would bring up a topic that was related to a painful time in the past. He wouldn't have asked that question if he had known how it would change Pete's mood. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to --"

"It's fine." Pete's tone sounded too strained to suggest casualness. He remained silent after that, giving Patrick the impression that he didn't wish to continue the topic - Patrick could hardly blame him, after all, he'd do the same - and it took some time before Pete actually talked to him again.

They were loading up the dishwasher together when Pete turned to him, after throwing Patrick a sidelong glances that held uncertain thoughtfulness. "You know what we should do today?" The older boy asked as he leaned against the counter. "We should go around town."

"Cool."

"I'm serious." Pete affirmed. "Like, we could show each other the places we like to hang out in our free time."

"Well, you've seen mine already." Patrick pointed out.

"Really? Where?"

"My room." Patrick answered.

Pete stared at him incredulously, even though the younger boy was telling him the truth. "C'mon." Pete said, a small upwards curve sitting crookedly on his lips and a slight crease forming on his brows - he appeared rather dubious about Patrick's statement but didn't want to show it too much. "There should be some place other than your room - and besides you house too - that you spend." He prompted.

"I'm a boring person." Patrick shrugged. "There's nothing interesting about me."

Pete's lips thinned into a white line as he narrowed his eyes at the strawberry blond, who was now drying his hands on a cloth. " _I_  don't think you're boring; and I think you are interesting." He said.

There was a sudden flutter of warmth in Patrick's chest that spread up to his cheeks. He looked to the space in between his feet, telling himself that Pete was probably saying this because he didn't want Patrick to feel bad about himself. But even that notion didn't feel right; Pete sounded sincere about what he had said.

"Yea, sure." Patrick said due to the lack of being able to think of any better reply and turned away. He was inwardly cringing at how he couldn't even respond properly to the older boy. That seemed to be a problem now, though, about Patrick not really knowing what  _was_  the right thing to say or to do whenever around Pete. And now that Pete had suggested they go to the places they loved to hang out, Patrick was sure his list was quite short compared to Pete's.

Not only that, Patrick was certain that if they went out later, Pete would get bored of him and he'd probably unintentionally spoil the whole day. No, it was better if he stayed home and revised his notes for concepts he couldn't understand. With a curt nod, he swiveled on his heel and left the kitchen.

Disappointed and confused by the lack of enthusiasm Patrick had displayed, Pete stared after the younger boy. He didn't understand why Patrick was still hesitant to open up at times. Perhaps he was being nosy but Pete really wanted to be there for Patrick if anything were to happen; after all, wasn't that what older brothers were supposed to do?

As Pete stood there leaning against the counter beside the dishwasher with a look of deep contemplation on his features, he realized he did care a lot about Patrick.


	24. 2.2

Patrick was sitting at the desk organizing his notes in Pete's room, not out of necessity but because he simply needed a distraction. He knew he shouldn't have doubts about skipping school since he had already decided it was too late to attend classes but there was this nagging voice at the back of his head that wouldn't leave him alone.

He had already borrowed on of Pete's headphones and was listening to one of the older boy's playlists to drown it out. While he scanned through his Biology notes, he didn't hear the door open and shut behind him, followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching. Just as he had placed the notes in his binder, Patrick felt a presence beside him; he didn't have to look to know it was Pete.

But the strawberry blond glanced up anyway, finding Pete regarding his notes curiously - or perhaps he simply appeared that way because of the way he was looking with those amber eyes of his with raised eyebrows. "So, are you still up to letting me show you the places I like in town or ..." Pete trailed off in a questioning tone.

Indecisive at that moment, Patrick weighed his choices; he could go with Pete but that would mean he'd delay on revising for an upcoming test or he could stay at home instead and let Pete do whatever he wanted to do. But as he thought of the latter, the image of a faceless person making Pete laugh as they hung out created a clenching sensation around his gut. Patrick hesitated.

 _No._  He reasoned with himself.  _Pete is entitled to hang out with whomever he likes and I_ _shouldn_ _'t be bummed about it_.

"I'm good. I'll just ... stay at home and do my work." Patrick said, somewhat unwillingly. His gut twisted in mutiny and it took him his willpower to ignore that uncomfortable sensation.

Pete's expression dulled momentarily before a small thoughtful frown creased his brow. "Okay, that's fine." He said, exhaling slightly. One could see the disappointment he was trying to mask with that smile he was wearing. "But I'm going to go get some groceries and I need help."

"Really?" Patrick's eyebrows arched in confusion. "Doesn't Antonia or Andy do that?"

"We can't  _always_  rely on them. I know Dad pays them but they're human, too. They deserve to have a break." Pete pointed out. "Besides, we gotta learn how to be independent."

Patrick did his best to ignore the slight flutter in his chest when he noticed that Pete used 'we' instead of 'I'. He glanced consideringly at his pile of notes and homework; suddenly, the task of revising didn't appear as fulfilling as he had thought. Biting his lip, the younger boy turned to Pete and regarded him seriously. "Okay, I'll go."

Pete grinned. "Awesome!"

*

"How long do you think we should take?" Patrick asked as he buckled his seatbelt, glancing over at Pete who was turning on the ignition.

"Take what?" Pete asked distractedly, hooking up his iPod into his car's audio system before he adjusted the driving mirror. Then they began to pull out of the garage.

"Grocery-shopping?" Patrick said, in case Pete didn't quite catch his question when he repeated himself before this. "Did you bring the list of stuff we need to buy? Because I don't think --"

"Whoa, there." Pete laughed as the car rolled out of the compound and onto the road. "Slow down, Pattycakes. I get that you're excited to finally go shopping with me --"

"Um." Patrick felt his face heat up.

"-- but relax. We're not preparing for Doomsday, comprende?" Pete asked.

"Okay." Patrick nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed that his behavior made him seem like he was fretting over little things, and settled back in his seat. He stared out the window, watching as they sped down the highway.

The absence of conversation was filled in by Pete's music; this time, though, it wasn't anything that reminded Patrick distinctly of rock, instead had rapping and a varying sort of sound that made him wonder if this artist liked to shake up their genre. "Who's this?" Patrick asked.

"Twenty Two Airplanes." Pete replied. "Do you like them?" He added.

"I like that they shake things up for every song." Patrick responded. "It's really creative of them."

"True." Pete nodded before a thoughtful expression crossed his features. There was something about the way he tapped the steering wheel his finger that caught Patrick's expression. He wasn't entirely sure but Pete looked a bit nervous - Patrick noticed because he was sweating a bit and his eyes kept flitting over to the younger boy in the shotgun seat.

Suspicion began build the longer Patrick observed the driver from the corner of his eye. Curiosity raced within his gut, tempting the strawberry blond to call Pete out on it. He didn't want to push the older boy to fess up but at the same time he really wanted to know why Pete was acting uncharacteristically strange.

Just as Patrick had opened his mouth, Pete broke out. "Okay, I'm just gonna be really honest here but I kinda lied about the grocery shopping thingy."

" _What?_ " Patrick demanded; there was that feeling of having seen this coming from a mile away yet he was surprised that one of his suspicions had come true. He scowled at Pete in disbelief. "Did you lie to me so you could get me to hang out with you?" His voice came out louder than he had intended, causing Pete to give a start.

The dark-haired boy was wincing slightly from the outburst. "Pretty much." Pete said in a small voice, sounding a bit guilty.

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third!" Patrick exclaimed in an indignant tone. "You could've just  _asked_  me instead of lying to me."

"You'd say no if I did." Pete argued.

"So what?" Patrick shot back. "At least I know you wanted to go and I might've considered the offer later on." He pointed out.

Pete turned a bright shade of red. "Well, you know I'm very impulsive and I don't think before acting, so that's that."

"You can't keep using  _that_  as an excuse." Patrick scowled, grated. "And I don't appreciate being kidnapped either."

Pete, who usually knew what to say something in response to an argument, remained silent. His eyes were focused on the car in front of them, burning into it, while the red flush lingered on his olive skin. Somehow his silence made Patrick feel rather uncomfortable, guilty even, of raising his voice at Pete.

Besides, what was the harm in Pete wanting to spend more time with Patrick? The younger boy knew that Pete must've had good intentions in the first place but he could hardly keep his indignation in check - he was doing terribly in Chemistry and he really didn't want to flunk the subject. Rather conflicted and angry, Patrick decided to stay silent and smolder until they reached a parking lot in town.

As Patrick hadn't been paying attention to where they had been going, he spoke in a petulant tone. "Where are we?"

After shifting the gear to park mode, Pete sighed and regarded the younger boy. "Look, I'm sorry about kidnapping you." He said contritely.

Patrick ignored him, though it hurt to do so and repeated his question once more. As he knew his resolve would weaken if he looked at Pete directly, Patrick kept his eyes lowered as he unbuckled the seatbelt. He heard Pete exhale softly.

"We're getting ice cream." The older boy replied as they got out of the car. They crossed the parking lot and walked towards a building, Pete walking in front with his shoulders tight with tensiom and Patrick trailing behind him.

Patrick hadn't noticed until they walked into a shop unit and realized that this was the very same ice-cream parlor that Pete had brought him to the other day. It was also the same place where he had taken a candid photo of the dark-haired boy.

The sight of the pastel pink walls and the matching booths greeted the both of them. The attendant at the counter, a girl with bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair who looked about their age, smiled welcomingly at the two boys, although she did so at Pete with more familiarity than she did with Patrick. "Hi there, Pete." She greeted.

Pete grinned at her. "Hey there Sarah, what's up?"

"Oh, nothing much." Sarah responded, shrugging. "Hi."

It took Patrick a moment to realize that she was greeting him. Flushing slightly, he gave her a small nod. "Hello." He said.

Sarah cocked her head slightly, narrowing her eyes before she turned to Pete. "Is this Patrick?" She asked. At that point, Patrick felt his heart skip; he had no idea who she was besides the fact that her name was Sarah and she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen and Patrick felt really awkward that she knew his name without him even introducing himself.

Pete's amber eyes lit up with mirth as he turned to the strawberry blond, seemingly forgetting of their tiny argument earlier and wrapped his arm around Patrick. The gesture caused the younger boy's breath to catch with surprise and his pulse to race especially when Pete ruffled his hair affectionately.

"You bet." Pete responded while Patrick remained crushed against Pete's shoulder and arm; as if that wasn't enough, Patrick had to steady himself and had accidentally held Pete's other shoulder, putting him in a rather questionable position. Pete, on the other hand, didn't appear to have noticed. "Isn't he a cutie?" Pete cooed.

Patrick's face burned. "I'm still here, y'know?"

Sarah shook her head, laughing. "Since when did you two get together?" She asked.

Immediately the mood shifted - Patrick could sense it - and Pete released him. There were distinctly awkward expressions on the faces of both boys although the reasons for their appearances were different.

"We're not, uh, we're not --" Patrick struggled, flushing. He was now reminded of both his and Pete's situation, that Pete was his stepbrother-to-be and that there wasn't supposed to be anything more than that.

Those facts seemed to glare pointedly at him, or more specifically his feelings. Since he and Pete had gotten on better terms, there was this part of him that drew towards the older boy like a magnet did to iron and made Pete invade his thoughts like waves breaking the shore. It wasn't something that Patrick could explain, neither could the pretense of 'getting to know Pete better' could suffice without sounding like a pathetic excuse. It was a conundrum, or perhaps it seemed like it because Patrick was afraid to consider the other possibility --

"We're not dating, for the record." Pete said.

Maybe Patrick was overreacting but that statement left a tiny sting in his chest.

"We just enjoy each other's company a lot." The older boy added when Sarah raised her eyebrow questioningly at the both of them.

Due to the ambiguity of his response, both Patrick and Sarah were confused but the girl decided to drop it, noting that this was probably a topic that probably required a thorough explanation that would take time. Instead, she took down their orders and left them be.

Pete and Patrick chose a booth by the window and were facing each other as they ate. It was amusing, Patrick thought, that despite Pete dressed in an all-black attire seemed to be obsessed with the amount of color in ice-cream. The older boy had chosen - with Patrick's agreement as they were both sharing - a large scoop each of three flavors; vanilla, strawberry and mint, and topped them all with rainbow sprinkles, M&Ms and gummy animals.

Patrick had taken a few bites before deciding it was a bit too sweet for him and let Pete finish the rest of the ice-cream. However, the older boy took this differently and thought Patrick was still offended about their earlier situation, not to mention that Pete had thrown his arm carelessly around Patrick that might've caused him discomfort. A contrite expression settled itself on Pete's features as he regarded Patrick.

"Look, Patrick. I'm very sorry about kidnapping you." Pete told him seriously, with some amount of pleading in his tone. "I really am! But I just wanted to make this day fun for the both of us and I didn't mean to ruin it --"

" _Pete_." The strawberry blond cut Pete off, sounding very weary. "Please shut up and eat your ice-cream."

Pete stared at him in utter bemusement for a few moments before he hesitantly did as he was told, albeit kept his eyes on Patrick the whole time like he was afraid that the younger boy might up and leave. "No, really, I  _mean_  it."

"I know, alright?"

"Cool. But seriously --"

"Pete, you're dripping ice-cream on your pants!" Patrick was exasperated, watching with irritation as Pete grabbed some tissues and tried to dab away the mess on his clothes. "Honestly, just drop it, okay?" He told the dark-haired boy.

"Drop what?" Pete asked distractedly with a tiny frown.

"Just stop apologizing already. It's annoying me and I forgive you, okay? I --" Patrick broke off and blanched, his eyes growing wide.

Pete immediately stiffened, sensing something was amiss, and looked over his shoulder to see where Patrick was staring at. "Fucking shit." He cursed. "What's that cunt doing here?"

Walking into the store was Leon.


	25. 2.3

"Don't look at him."

" _You're_  looking at him." Patrick shot back at Pete, scowling at the older boy's hands as he ducked his head. Inwardly he was cursing his genes for developing the strawberry blond hair he had as it made him stand out amongst the other more common fair-haired and dark-haired people. This made him wish he had a hat to blend in although Patrick doubted the feasibility of this as an afterthought, seeing as most people were always bareheaded.

Pete had turned around, his face tight. "Just act normal." He spoke through his teeth.

"Nobody acts  _normal_  after anyone says that." Patrick pointed out, trying to obscure his face by holding up his phone and pretending to text on it.

"Fair point." Pete agreed with a thoughtful note. "Don't act normal then." He shot back, still maintaining his sense of sarcasm.

"How is  _that_  supposed to help?" Patrick's eyes wandered over the edge of his phone to where Leon was standing at the counter, mulling over the ice-cream flavor choices. If Patrick hadn't known what an unpleasant person Leon was towards Pete, and Patrick on occasion, it wouldn't be so bad.

The sight of Leon was sending the strawberry blond into a panicky state. The mere thought of meeting anyone he knew from school outside of campus had made him mildly uncomfortable but for Leon's case, it made Patrick wish that the unpleasant boy didn't exist outside of campus grounds. It would've been better that way, for all the things that Leon had either directly or indirectly put Patrick through.

Unsurprisingly though disappointingly, the blue-eyed boy's wish was never fulfilled by the Universe for some obscure reason. The possibility of Leon spotting them when he turned his head to the left was causing Patrick to want to get up and leave as fast as possible.

"What's he doing?" Pete asked in an unnecessarily loud whisper, causing the person sitting behind him to look over in annoyance.

"I think he's ordering ice-cream."

"Well, no shit, Patrick. What do you think he's here for? To flirt with the staff?"

"Actually I think he is." Patrick said, watching the way Leon was acting when Sarah was taking down his orders. Detachedly, Patrick felt disgusted. Shaking his head, he decided to draw his attention away from Leon and gave his surroundings a quick scan, the gears in his brain grinding. Then he blanched. "There are no empty seats other than the booth behind us." He told Pete urgently.

Pete, who was doing his best to become one with his seat, frowned. "What?"

"If he's having ice-cream here, he'll be sitting behind us." Patrick said. Making an impatient noise at the back of his throat when there was an expression of confusion on Pete's features. "He'll be passing by us."

"Shit." Pete cursed under his breath. "Okay, we gotta leave now." He began to get up from the booth, Patrick following his actions. They were on their way out the door when Pete stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Patrick to bump painfully against the back of Pete's head. Patrick was tempted to give the older boy a shove but all of a sudden, Pete was swiveling on his heel and pushing Patrick away from where the door was.

Of course, Patrick was rather confused as to why they were going in the opposite direction and even offered a bit of resistance but the moment Pete's hand rested on the small of his back was when Patrick became too surprised to object. His attention had shifted from where they were heading to the pressure of Pete's palm. It was funny how, despite his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans offering the barriers, it felt like the older boy was touching Patrick's skin.

The strawberry blond's face had flushed a bright shade of red. Patrick was barely aware of anything past the buzzing in his ears, not noticing the way customers had given the two boys curious glances or Pete was leading him to the restroom. It was only after he was inside did he finally become aware.

Patrick's face was too hot. His pulse was running wild, creating a dizzy rush in his head. Doing his best to ignore the fact that he and Pete had locked themselves in a small confined space, he moved to lean against the sink and kept his eyes averted from Pete's so that the older boy wouldn't notice how flustered he was.

Pete had turned around from sliding the bolt on the door and flipped the toilet lid shut before taking a seat on it. There was a half-annoyed, half-worried expression on his features. "Sorry I forced you in here." He told Patrick. "Leon was turning our way and I panicked --"

"It's fine." Patrick cut him off, still staring at the floor with his arms crossed. "He would've spotted us anyway."

"Right." Pete nodded though he sounded rather uncertain. Biting his lower lip, he fiddled with the leather cuff bracelet on his wrist in a restless manner. "It's bad enough that Leon is fucking cunt to me, it'd be worse for you."

"I know."

Pete's mouth pressed into a thin white line as he looked up at Patrick. "I just don't want him to target you for hanging out with me." He said. When Patrick didn't reply, he sighed. "Sometimes, I'm really sorry that you have to put up with me."

Patrick frowned up at Pete, baffled. "Pete, what are you talking about?" He demanded, a little too loudly, with disbelief.

"About you and me. Actually, it's more about what you have to put up with when you're with me." Pete answered.

"What?"

"I'm just saying I wasn't the best person back then and I'm just ... I'm  _worried_  that it might catch up to me and also affect you in some way." Pete said, raking his fingers his hair. "I hate the thought of that and I hate that it's not possible to keep you away from it."

Patrick felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, hearing Pete talk in that way like he was just doubting and disappointed in himself. Biting his lower lip, Patrick approached Pete and lowered himself so he was eye-level with the older boy. "Hey." He voiced softly, trying to catch Pete's eyes. "Look, Pete. I'm not a little boy. I can take care of myself." He said.

Pete looked at him, his amber-colored gaze meeting Patrick's blue-eyed one. He didn't say anything, instead wore a tight-lipped expression. For some reason, the younger boy could tell he was conflicted between believing Patrick and sticking to his conviction.

"Well, I can manage  _most_  things by myself." Patrick corrected himself. "I know you wanna be --" His voice caught on the unspoken word brother; he wasn't ready to use it at all. Pete couldn't fit under that category, no matter how hard Patrick wished he could. He cleared his throat. "I know you just wanna look out for me but don't worry about it too much, okay? It's not good for you and it's not good for me either." He added firmly.

Pete opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it. Even if he did look a bit unconvinced, he did agree with Patrick on some points. As he regarded the younger boy contemplatively, Pete let out an almost inaudible sigh. "Okay, fine." He said, placing both hands on Patrick's shoulders. "But if anyone dares to hurt you --"

"You'll kick their booties?" Patrick arched his eyebrows.

Pete's serious expression evaporated at once as he broke into a laugh. "Booty is too sexy for those jerks. I'll whoop their  _asses_." With his eyes now gleaming brighter than they had been earlier, he ruffled Patrick's hair affectionately, earning a mildly indignant noise from the younger boy. "C'mere, you." He grinned.

Caught off-guard, Patrick let out a muffled noise of confusion when Pete suddenly pulled him into a hug. He had thrown his arms clumsily around Pete's shoulder, nearly toppling the older boy over with his weight.

As Pete steadied himself with a surprised chuckle, Patrick could feel the older boy's muscles tensing underneath his upper body and arms to compensate for the mass against him. Pete's body warmth seeped into Patrick's body, causing the strawberry blond's pulse to roar in his ears.

The younger boy's face burned at the realization that he had actually paid attention to what it felt like being up against Pete in this proximity and attempted to drag back. His mind cooperated but his body didn't; in fact, it was like Patrick had let go of Pete hesitantly. He offered a small smile at the older boy, his cheeks slight pink in color, and went back to his spot by the sink.

They allowed six minutes to pass before Pete decided to go out and check if Leon was still in the parlor. He returned briefly and Patrick didn't even have to ask because Pete looked relieved. One thing that the younger boy noticed as they walked out the store that the gleam in Pete's gaze hadn't faded out since they hugged.

Was Pete feeling as lightheaded and giddy as Patrick was? Did he feel like every step was causing him to float? What was he thinking?

"You're looking at me funny." Pete smirked in amusement as they walked side-by-side to the parking lot. "Is there something on my face?"

Patrick shook his head, ashamed that he had been caught staring at Pete for longer than necessary. "Nothing. Just your eyeliner." He fibbed. "It brings out your eyes." He added, and he really meant it. His lashes veiled his eyes quickly as he ducked his head to grin.

Pete laughed in amusement. "One day, I should teach you how to wear it."

*

Time actually passed by faster than Patrick had thought, which was a good sign as it indicated he was enjoying hanging out with Pete. Though he'd rather keep it to himself, Patrick would admit that it was today was a nice change from his usual weekday routine. He even forgot to ask his friends if they had any homework for that day.

Pete and Patrick had visited the places the older boy hung out during his free time like that arcade at the mall that Patrick hadn't set foot in years since his father passed away, the little diner that served the best strawberry milkshake he'd ever tasted and that park where they watched ducks and their offspring waddle about in the pond. Night was approaching, the sky darkening to a beautiful shade of twilight blue.

As Pete had the thought to bring along Patrick's Polaroid - although the younger boy suspected he had borrowed it without Patrick's permission - the strawberry blond was able to take a few pictures. They had run out of film at least twice because of Pete insisting that they 'take aesthetic as fuck photographs' to document their first day skipping school together. Though Patrick found this rather unnecessary, he went along with it because seeing Pete excited and enjoying himself made him feel warm all over.

"Last stop today before we return home for dinner." Pete told Patrick as they drove down the highway. "You okay there?"

"Oh. Okay. Cool." Patrick blinked, struggling out of the state between halfway alertness and sleep. Stifling the urge to yawn, he sat up. "Where are we going?"

Like the times the younger boy had asked earlier, Pete remained silent but was wearing that infuriatingly cocky smirk. "You'll see."

Tired of pestering Pete for information Patrick drifted off once more, only to wake up later with Pete shaking his shoulder. "I'm not sleeping." He lied, stifling the urge to yawn.

"Sure, Fuzzy." Pete grinned and unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out of his car.

Patrick did the same, although his fingers were clumsy and awkward from being half-awake, before he almost stumbled out the car. Rubbing his eyes, it took him a few moments to realize Pete had taken him to a boardwalk amusement park. The sight of the dizzying array of colored lights and the cacophony of music and laughter caught Patrick's full attention.

Amused by the expression on Patrick's features, Pete gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Ever been here before?"

Patrick hesitated. "My parents were planning to take me here the week before my dad passed away." He spoke softly, feeling a tiny twinge of longing and sadness in his chest.

Pete gave him a sympathetic look and pressed his lips together. "Well, I hope he won't mind if I help fulfill his promise to his son." He said gently to Patrick as they began to walk towards the amusement park.

Patrick gave him a tiny smile of gratitude, holding the straps of the Adventure Time themed backpack - it was Pete's but he liked the look of it on Patrick.

"I love the view." The strawberry blond mused aloud, staring off at the horizon where the blue of the sea and sky sandwiched the thing orange strip from the dying sunset. He reached for his Polaroid from the backpack and took a picture of the scenery. As he waited for the photo to develop, he let Pete play around with his camera - he was paying for the film, anyway - when he heard someone call his name.

Recognizing the voice, Patrick turned to find Mikey and his older brother approaching him and Pete. He broke into a grin before remembering that Mikey was most likely to question where on earth he had been all day and why he was absent from school - he hoped that smile hadn't slid off his face by accident yet.

The Way siblings' clothes contrasted with each other's - Gerard dressed in bright colors while Mikey in monochrome.

"Hey Mikey. Hi Gerard." Patrick greeted the two brothers. "What's up?"

"Searching for inspiration." Gerard sighed dramatically, exchanging fist bumps with Pete. "My brain's been fresh out of ideas so I figured I should get out of the house and bring Mikey along." He answered, even though Patrick hadn't asked for that many details.

"Hey there." Pete grinned at the younger of the Way brothers, whose cheeks had reddened in the slightest. "Mikey, right?"

"Y-Yea." Mikey nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he avoided looking at Pete directly. He cleared his throat. "How's it going, Pete?" Patrick couldn't help but notice how nervous his best friend sounded.

"Ehh, it's been good." Pete replied. "Actually, Patrick and I were planning to try out some of the rides here before we go back home for dinner. Do you mind if we tag along?" He asked.

Before Mikey could answer, Gerard leapt in. "Definitely!" He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, this is going to be  _fun_!" He grinned at the three other boys.

Patrick had a funny feeling the older Way brother had looked at both Pete and Mikey longer than he did at Patrick.


	26. 2.4

Watching both Mikey and Pete get along stirred up two conflicting emotions in Patrick's chest. He wasn't sure whether to be thrilled that Pete seemed to get along really well with Mikey - who wasn't a very sociable person - or to allow the tight and bitter sensation at the pit of his stomach ruin his corndog.

As he bit into the greasy amusement park food, sitting on a bench that was a respectable amount of distance away from the dark-haired boy and the blond boy, he tried to tell himself that he wasn't at all bothered by the sight of Mikey and Pete trying out the games at the stalls together.

Pete had tried to get Patrick to play with them but the younger boy refused and wanted time to himself.

Only, being by himself made the strawberry blond all the more aware of the knot in his chest that refused unravel even when he thought hard about playing with puppies. Patrick  _could_  strike up a conversation with Gerard but he had gone in search for the restroom, leaving Patrick alone.

As he was reluctant to join Mikey and Pete, Patrick dug around his backpack and winced as though someone had pinched him once he looked inside. Somehow, the contents had become disorganized. The Polaroid photos that Patrick had arranged neatly were now scattered at the bottom, some seemingly folded from the weight of Pete's A5 hardcover notebook and two half-empty plastic water bottles left lying carelessly over the pile. This was why Patrick had been hesitant to hand the backpack over to Pete when he went to buy snacks.

Biting back a noise of annoyance, he dug out the contents and tried to sort everything out. As he straightened out the crinkled Polaroid photos, Patrick heard Mikey's laughter and Pete's voice carried over the wind.

Mikey hardly laughed like that and Pete never sounded that excited and happy.

Patrick's chest constricted involuntarily. Forcing himself to focus on his task at hand, sorting the photos to the best he could by their time taken under the light provided by the amusement park, Patrick told himself that they were only enjoying themselves and he  _should_  be glad that they were getting along.

"Ooh, what did I miss?" Patrick heard Gerard's voice and looked up.

"Nothing." Patrick lied, ignoring the guilt of lying before his resolution faltered. "Nothing much." He amended.

Gerard seemed mildly disappointed. "Oh. Well, okay." He peered at Patrick with an expression of curiosity. "Are those what I think they are?" He gestured at Patrick's hands that held the photographs with a look of delight.

"Polaroids? Yep." Patrick confirmed, detachedly relieved that the topic had changed. He scooted to the side to make space for Gerard to sit. "Pete and I took these today." He added as the other boy picked the photographs up.

"These are so aesthetic." Gerard opined. "Except for this." He showed Patrick the Polaroid that showed Pete with his finger in his nose.

"Gross."

" _Exactly_." Gerard cringed and shuddered. "Oh, and this." He showed another photograph of Pete doing the exact same thing except this time, with Patrick in the background with his back turned on the older boy.

Patrick's face heated in embarrassment as he made a mental note to supervise Pete whenever he was borrowing Patrick's Polaroid camera. "He gets a little too excited." Patrick explained awkwardly.

"I can tell." Gerard responded and thumbed through the rest of Pete's ridiculous shots till the most recent one, which was a selfie of half his face with Mikey in mid-sneeze. "He seems like a really goofy guy." Gerard said.

"Who?"

"Pete."

"Yea."

Gerard regarded Patrick but the strawberry blond had a distinct feeling that the other boy was studying him carefully. Patrick drew his gaze to his feet and began to collect the Polaroids before putting them back in the backpack, this time making sure that they wouldn't get scattered around. He couldn't shake of the awareness of weight of Gerard's gaze on him.

Finally, Gerard spoke. "Not to be intrusive but ... I can tell something's bothering you."

Patrick's eyes went back to Gerard's face. He tried to conceal the fear that the other boy had somehow read his thoughts. "Oh, really? Do I give off that vibe or something?" He inquired, hoping he sounded skeptical enough to throw off the suspicion in case Gerard had mind-reading powers.

Gerard shrugged. "Either that or my eyesight is getting bad." He said thoughtfully.

Patrick couldn't tell if Gerard was messing around or not but decided not to ask.

"I mean, I'm sorry if I assumed but yea." Gerard added. "It's just ... the look on your face earlier when I asked you what I missed while I was in the restroom reminded me of someone."

Interest piqued, Patrick glanced over at Gerard curiously. "Really?"

Gerard made a sound of affirmation. "A close friend of mine. He always had that look on his face whenever he saw his crush with someone else. It's not jealousy, though." He said when Patrick frowned at him. "It's more of a - sorry for my bad explanation - that look when you tell yourself that you aren't supposed to care in that way but when you see that person with someone else, you feel kinda hurt about it?"

"Nope." However, Patrick knew exactly what Gerard meant that it actually scared him. Against his volition, his eyes traveled away from Gerard's face to his left where both Pete and Mikey were approaching them but slowly because they were caught up in their conversations. The two boys had smiles on their faces and they were speaking animatedly, with those hand gestures and occasional laughs. It made Patrick's chest hurt.

"But yea." Gerard's voice drew Patrick back to him. "You kinda gave me that vibe and I thought maybe you were feeling the same way." He explained. "Sorry for assuming, though."

"It's cool."

Gerard made as if to say something but before he could, Pete and Mikey had made it within earshot of both him and Patrick. Whatever he wanted to say, Patrick would never know.

The strawberry blond turned his attention to Pete and Mikey, or more specifically their faces. His insides had gone weightless with anticipation though what he was anticipating, Patrick wasn't entirely sure himself. But he knew he was looking for  _something_.

Mikey was grinning, broader than he usually would and Pete's eyes were shining with mirth.

Patrick's stomach sank. He pressed his lips together and forced a smile at both of them, ignoring the sensation of his heart shrinking painfully in his chest. "So, how'd it go?" His inclination to be polite had overridden his brain but he was disgusted by how fake he sounded to his own ears, as if he was really interested in what Mikey and Pete had done.

"Oh, it was freaking awesome." Pete answered and Patrick couldn't help but notice the difference in his tone; it was subtle but he was aware of it.

"Yea." Mikey agreed, laughing a bit. "Pete nearly took off the attendant's head when we played toss-a-ball."

"Did you win anything?" Gerard asked excitedly, getting up from the bench.

"Eh, it was mostly Pete." Mikey glanced sidelong at the dark-haired boy sheepishly.

"Oh shush." Pete rolled his eyes, punching Mikey's arm playfully. "We wouldn't have won if you didn't do the first throw."

"Have you seen how  _you_  throw? You could do it without me and still win the prizes." Mikey scoffed but there was an appreciative undertone to his incredulous voice.

The three boys chattered amongst themselves, not noticing the strawberry blond moving a little away from the group. It wasn't that he really minded being left out, it was just the fact that not only had Pete seemed to forget about Patrick he also hadn't looked in Patrick's way ever since the Way brothers had bumped into them earlier.

 _You're being ridiculously petty. Pete is just enjoying himself a lot so why should you be bothered by it?_  This was what Patrick had been telling himself like a mantra when he first noticed that Pete's shift in behavior. He was doing it now as he turned away from the three boys, away from the harsh lights and noises of the amusement park to face the dark expanse of sea and starlit sky.

"Hey." That one moment when Pete remembered Patrick existed that night was the moment Patrick wished he didn't.

There was a painful lump in Patrick's throat and he was afraid that if he spoke his voice would quaver audibly Pete would realize the jumbled mix of emotions Patrick was experiencing. No, it was better to remain silent. So he stared at the indistinguishable line where the sea and the sky met in the horizon.

Pete didn't know what was going on with Patrick. There was a worried expression on his face when he regarded Patrick; even if there were still things he didn't know about the younger boy, he could tell - or speculate - what Patrick was feeling from his facial expression. Those lips pressed together to form a line, the small furrow of his brows, the tight set of his jaw and the way those lashes partially veiled his blue eyes; all these tiny details pointed Pete to the notion that Patrick was bothered by something.

"You okay there, Patrick?" The older boy asked, placing a hand on Patrick's shoulder. The fluidty of the movement itself suggested that it was driven by instinct, not by choice.

Patrick's shoulders tensed involuntarily from the contact, not out of annoyance but out of surprise. At first he was wary of the unexpected gesture; why would Pete touch him? Forgetting the impulsive promise he made to himself, the strawberry blond faced the boy beside him.

For a moment, Patrick couldn't remember how to shape his mouth to form words. Some part of him wanted to come clean, wanted to give Pete a piece of his mind. He hated how the bitter knot in his chest tightened gradually throughout the progress of the night - perhaps if he spoke now, he'd be able to overcome that feeling. He drew a breath.

"I'm fine." This was the worst lie Patrick had ever told anyone, besides that one time he denied breaking his father's precious Ming vase when he was five. He held Pete's gaze for good measure, not noticing he was doing so too fiercely like he was daring the older boy to confront him. "No really, I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired." It was painful how guilt sank its teeth into him with every false word spoken.

Pete arched an eyebrow. He wasn't convinced but he didn't to press it, despite his proclivity for spouting whatever came to mind; it was probably one of the hardest thing for him to do that night. Biting his lip, his hands tightened around a soft object he was holding behind his back. He was surprised that Patrick hadn't noticed or allowed his natural inquisitiveness to break past those blue eyes.

"I have something for you." Pete told Patrick, forcing down the feeling of his heart skipping a beat.

Patrick frowned with a mix of bafflement and wariness, his gaze traveling downwards from Pete's to the movement of the older boy's hands. Then his eyebrows shot up.

Pete was holding a stuffed unicorn out to Patrick. It was roughly the size of a large housecat, white in color with a fuzzy pink mane and tail and a golden fabric horn. It also had comically large eyes that were both looking in opposite directions.

Patrick was dumbstruck. He wasn't aware of his own mouth hanging open or that he had gasped a little too loudly. He was only aware of the tiny flare of warmth, melting away the cold bitter knot that had taken residence under his ribcage. Dazed, he accepted the plushie unicorn from Pete and was amazed at how soft and fluffy it felt in his arms. Patrick had to resist the urge to squish it to his body and squeal with delight. "T-Thank you." He struggled to get the words out.

Pete smiled, perhaps not as wide as he did earlier with Mikey earlier, but a slow and sweet one that was heartfelt and sincere. It made Patrick forget how to breathe for a staggering second. "Thought you might like it." Pete said before a look of self-doubt overcame his features. "You do like it, right?"

Patrick nodded, letting out a small incredulous laugh. "Yea. I ... I didn't think you'd, well --"

"Get something for you?" Pete guessed. "Please, why would I not want to get anything for you?"

Patrick was tempted to answer that, his eyes automatically drifting past Pete's shoulder to the Way brothers, or more specifically, Mikey. He pulled his gaze back to Pete's, biting his lip. "But thank you so much for - for --"

"Are you tearing up?" Pete asked very worriedly.

"What?  _No_." Patrick laughed as he shook his head, blinking hard all the same. "The unicorn is cute, though." The younger boy said in attempts to draw Pete's attention away from his wet eyelashes.

"Oh yes." Pete agreed. "Just like you."

Before Patrick had the time to ponder whether he meant it as a joke, the Way brothers came up to him and Pete.

"It was really fun hanging out with y'all but we have to go home now." Gerard said ruefully while Mikey gave an apologetic smile.

"Oh, no worries." Pete told them. "Drive safely, alright?" He added as the brothers said their goodbyes.

Both Pete and Patrick watched as Gerard and Mikey disappeared out of view before they spoke once more; this time, it was Patrick who went first.

"So, is there anything else you wanna do?" Frankly, Patrick was half-hoping Pete would want to return home, now that Mikey wasn't here with them anymore. Much to his surprise, and relief, Pete nodded.

"Yea, actually just one more thing." The dark-haired boy said. "A visit to the boardwalk amusement park isn't complete till we've ridden the ferris wheel."

Patrick laughed in disbelief. "Seriously, Peter?"

" _Seriously_ , Pattycakes."

*

Luckily, both Pete and Patrick didn't have to wait for long in the queue to ride the ferris wheel. The line was fairly short and by the time it was their turn, the attendant took one look at them and immediately ushered them into cabin as if she knew they wanted to get on the ride.

Patrick had only ridden a ferris wheel once or twice in his life but he never actually remembered the feeling of it so he was excited about it. He was clutching the unicorn and peering out of the window despite the cabin being stationary. Then they begun to ascend and Patrick made a tiny squeak.

Pete grinned in amusement, finding Patrick's excitement endearing and scooted over from the opposite side of the cabin to sit beside Patrick and placed his arm over the back of the seat casually.

Patrick felt a noticeable leap in his pulse when he was aware of how close Pete was to him. Flustered yet exhilirated, he glanced at Pete shyly before his eyes were veiled by his lashes.

"So." Pete began. "How did you enjoy today?"

"Huh?" Patrick was so focused on watching the park gradually grow smaller and smaller as their cabin ascended that he didn't quite catch what Pete said. "Oh, it was really fun." He responded, squeezing the unicorn in his hands.

Pete chuckled, pushing away the dark strands of hair away from his face. "Better than being cooped up in school and choking down homework, right?"

"I refuse to answer that."

Pete grinned, poking Patrick in the shoulder with the arm that was slung over the back of their seat. "Oh, c'mon. You gotta admit you liked today."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. I loved it, okay? Today was really awesome not being in school." He told Pete, finally giving in. "It's nice missing lessons for once in my life."

"Aww, Sophomore Stump is being a little rebel." Pete cooed.

Patrick was about to deny that when he realized it'd sound stupid. So he pressed his lips together, elbowed Pete playfully and grinned like an idiot. For no apparent reason, they began to laugh.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence after that but it was a pleasant sort of quiet as they admired the view of the amusement park, shining in the darkness and beaming with music and laughter.

It was one of the best nights Patrick had ever had.


	27. 2.5

"Yea, Mom. Everyone's doing fine." Patrick told Patricia over the phone while his pen traveled aimlessly over the paper. "Okay, cool. ... Yea - no, it's alright, Mom. You don't have to get me anything. ... Okay bye, I love you." He hung up the call and set his phone down with a sigh.

A pile of homework and a day's worth of notes sat on the table Patrick was occupying, the task of sorting them out seemingly daunting. This was the price he had to pay for skipping school on the day all of his teachers decided to give a ton of handouts. If it was supposed to teach him a lesson, it wasn't really effective.

Patrick was still buzzing with warmth from last night's ride on the Ferris Wheel with Pete. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Pete had laughed, how they watched the amusement park shrink below them as their cabin ascended and his stomach fluttered when Pete helped him out the cabin by the hand. He had been too happy to fall asleep that night, spending some time staring up the ceiling with a smile as he replayed those images over and over in his head till his eyelids shut.

Even with the lack of proper rest, Patrick managed to get up in the morning just fine, as opposed to Pete who had been so tired he fell right back asleep after the strawberry blond boy woke him up.

Patrick was now in the library, determined to stay in there to finish his work. The bell had rung not too long ago at lunch but Patrick hadn't heard it because he was listening to a playlist on Pete's iPod while doing his homework. His attention was split between the music and solving a complicated Math problem that he didn't realize Mikey and Jon appearing round the bookshelves in search of him.

"There you are!" Jon exclaimed, taking a seat beside Patrick while Mikey took the other side.

"Shh." Patrick elbowed Jon warningly, looking furtively around for any librarians who might be prowling amongst the rows of shelves.

"Don't worry, two of them went out for lunch and one's wearing noise-cancelling headphones." Jon reassured, patting his best friend's shoulder while half his attention was focused on the pile of homework.

Mikey placed a brown paper bag on the table and pushed it over to Patrick, who was giving him a disapproving look for smuggling food into the library. "Me and Jon thought you'd be hungry and you didn't exactly respond to our texts." Mikey explained matter-of-factly, an eyebrow arched.

"Sorry, I didn't realize." Patrick said and checked his phone. Then he looked at the paper bag. Curiosity overcame him and Patrick was opening it, finding a neatly wrapped burrito inside, a juicebox and a packet of cookies. "Thanks for bringing me lunch." Patrick told his friends, picking up the burrito.

"No worries." Jon grinned, poking around some of the notes Patrick had written earlier.

Patrick ate the burrito in silence while Mikey took out his phone to read an article online and Jon doodled aimlessly on one of Patrick's scrap paper. Once the strawberry blond boy had finished his meal, he noticed with a mildly disapproving frown that Jon had drawn rude images on his paper. "Seriously?"

Jon shrugged with an innocent expression before he crumpled the paper and swept it to one side. His movement caused a few of the other papers on the table to shift, revealing something sticking out of Patrick's binder. Curiously, Jon plucked the object out, which happened to be a Polaroid of both Pete and Patrick. "This is so gay; I ship!" He announced, grinning hugely as he held out the photograph to both Patrick and Jon.

Patrick almost choked on his juice while Mikey gave Jon the most bewildered expression.

"Jon!" Patrick exclaimed, his cheeks burning from embarrassment as he snatched the Polaroid out of Jon's hand. "Seriously!"

Mikey peered over Patrick's shoulder at the picture with a bemused frown and then stared at Jon. "Okay, what?"

The Polaroid essentially was a picture of Pete and Patrick. But the real reason why Jon had announced that he 'shipped' the two boys was because Pete had his arm around Patrick's shoulder and was showing the widest - and perhaps the most impish - grin while Patrick was caught in a rather shocked and confused expression. It was taken about three weeks ago and even if Patrick had been annoyed that Pete made fun of his face at that time, this photograph was one of his favorites.

"They do look cute together." Jon opined matter-of-factly, although anyone could hear his smirk at the end of his sentence.

Patrick's face was red as he stuffed the Polaroid back into his binder. He was flustered by Jon's comment but at the same time he was flattered. He didn't know why he felt that way because, heck, him and Pete were supposed to be radiating that 'brother' vibe and not give out the impression of something  _else_.

Mikey sighed and rolled his eyes. "Jon, you aren't really supposed to ship Pete and Patrick." He told Jon, his calm voice carrying an undertone of impatience. "They're going to be brothers soon."

There that word was;  _brothers_. Patrick almost winced upon hearing it. But it was the truth, or at least, it would be once Lewis and Patricia were married. But no matter how much time he spent, Patrick was still struggling to associate Pete with the word 'brother'; even if he tried, the image wouldn't form in his mind.

Patrick had avoided thinking about this particularly difficult situation for as long as he could, burying it at the back of his head, but now that circumstances had forced him to, he was questioning himself now. If Pete wasn't a brother, what was he to Patrick? And what was Patrick to Pete?

"Yea, I know, but --" Jon hesitated. "You have to admit they do look cute together." He said.

Mikey's lips thinned. "But wouldn't it be awkward for their family?"

"Guys, I'm still here." Patrick cut into their conversation indignantly. "And Pete and I are just --" His voice caught. "The picture's just a joke, okay? It doesn't mean in the way you think it does."

"Jeez, Patrick, calm down." Jon said, wide-eyed with worry. "We're not saying you are dating Pete or whatever --"

Patrick's face burned indignantly.

"But I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable." Jon apologized.

"Me too." Mikey added.

Patrick let out a sigh, letting his eyes fall shut for a few moments. He wanted to be alone. Gathering his belongings, he thanked his friends once more for the lunch and for their company - though now he was miffed that the mood had been ruined - and left the library.

*

Patrick waited for Pete at the drop-off point facing the parking lot. He was clutching his binder to his chest as he stared around the crowds of students, all leaving school for the day.

Truth be told, now that he had time to think about his actions he did feel guilty for snapping at his friends earlier over a Polaroid. He could hardly blame them now because now that he thought of it, his friends knew he had spent a lot of time with Pete lately so it might've given them the wrong impression. He wanted to find them and apologize in person rather than through text but just as he took a step forward, he felt someone tug his backpack.

Thinking it was someone looking for trouble, Patrick turned around indignantly and found Pete grinning at him. Immediately, the younger boy's frown faded. "Hey, Pete."

"Sophomore Stump." Pete said by way of greeting, clapping Patrick's shoulder before slinging his arm around the strawberry blond boy.

Patrick only had a brief moment to register Pete's gesture, and blood to rush into his pale cheeks, confusion to set in when Pete ruffled his hair playfully. The younger boy let out a protesting noise and squirmed out of Pete's hold, confused and indignant, when he stared at Pete. Now that he had time to glare at the dark-haired boy, he only realized belatedly that his pulse was racing. Not only that, he was trying to decipher what on earth that gesture meant - the one before Pete ruffled his hair, obviously.

Pete glanced over his shoulder to find Patrick, appearing deep in thought, trailing behind him. He stopped for a second to allow Patrick to catch up with him before he spoke. "I'm sorry, you didn't like that?" He was worried he'd been a bit too rough with Patrick when he was trying for a playful older brother angle.

Patrick looked up at Pete, who was regarding him with concerned amber eyes, and hesitated. He wanted to admit he did like the part when Pete had his arm around him. But he didn't and he shook his head, avoiding the older boy's gaze.

Pete tried to ignore the tiny stab of guilt in his chest and nodded, even though Patrick couldn't see it. "Didn't mean to hurt you or anything." He said sincerely. "Thought I'd try --"

"Doing big-brother stuff?" Patrick guessed in a dull tone. It was coming back to him now; he had barely subdued his frustration at his inability to recognize Pete as a brother and now that it was resurfacing again, he really lost the mood. "I can see."

Contritely, Pete's lips thinned as he looked over Patrick. They had reached his car and Patrick was going round the vehicle when Pete said, "I was thinking we could go have coffee or something."

The strawberry blond boy could tell from Pete's tone that he wanted to cheer Patrick up. But Patrick didn't like coffee. So he shook his head. "I'll take a rain check." He told Pete and got into the shotgun seat.

Pete tried to hide his disappointment with a tight-lipped smile and got into the car.

The ride back home was filled with an awkward tension hanging over to the two boys. Not even Pete's playlist consisting of songs that had upbeat tunes could loosen it up. Pete had made a few attempts to start a conversation with Patrick but all was met with monosyllabic responses that he gave up.

Patrick didn't seem to know that Pete was rather worried about his mood today, but not that he'd care at the moment because all he could think of was how hard Pete was trying to act brotherly. Frankly, he was getting sick of it and as time slid through his fingers, he was starting to come to terms with himself, or rather his feelings.

Earlier during his class right after lunch which was History, Patrick had surreptitiously looked up on the internet for an explanation; to see if it was normal to feel the way he did when he knew Pete would be his stepbrother. The refusal to acknowledge Pete as a brother but as a friend whom he was growing fond of. And he was worried but at the same time relieved by the search results; he wasn't the only one yet it was unsettling how many other had gone through what he was going through.

"Pattycakes?"

Patrick barely heard what Pete had told him before the nickname so, broken out of his thoughts, he faced Pete with an unfocused stare. "Huh?"

"You okay there?" Pete asked. Anyone could hear the concern in his tone.

Patrick hesitated. "I'm alright. Just tired because of school - y'know all the homework and stuff." He answered as convincingly as he could, filling his reply with some truths so it wouldn't sound like a complete lie.

Pete glanced over at Patrick in the passenger's seat, raking his gaze over the younger boy's appearance and knew right away that he was lying. Even if he had known Patrick for a short period of time, he was well aware of some of the boy's habits and this one, where Patrick was chewing his lower lip absentmindedly and staring off blankly, hinted something was up. But Pete knew better than to be nosy around Patrick as he had learned it the hard way and kept his mouth shut.

So instead of asking Patrick what was wrong, again, Pete began to think of a way to cheer the boy up.


	28. 2.6

"You sure you don't wanna join me?" Pete lingered by the door, looking over his shoulder at Patrick across the room. "Just for one round of Mario Kart?" He added, in case Patrick would turn him down again. He had tried a couple of times previously to get Patrick to talk to him - subtly, by suggesting they play video games, him to teach Patrick to play the bass, them to do a snack raid - and all attempts had been turned down.

Patrick didn't even bat an eyelid when he did that.

It was starting to get on Pete's nerves but he was concerned for Patrick. His heart thumping with anticipation his chest, Pete held his breath for Patrick to relent - for the love of the universe, this was the seventh time he tried.

Patrick glanced at the dark-haired boy waiting by the door and back at his notes. He was sitting on a beanbag in the corner of the room. He wasn't inclined to get up, though. He was much too comfortable to get up - even if sitting in that position would have adverse effects on his health - and he would rather have some time alone. It wasn't because he was starting to grow weary of Pete's company but rather because he wanted to sort his feelings out.

Alone, preferably.

Without Pete who had the ability to make Patrick's brain screw up and his heart to stop. Pete, who could make Patrick smile as easily as he could breathe. Pete, Pete, Pete.

The strawberry blond boy shook his head and waved Pete off. "I'll be fine. Go on ahead." He said, even if he did want to join the older boy in a round of Mario Kart. Once he heard the door click shut, he felt tired in an emotional sense. Sighing, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He hadn't realized how stiff his limbs had gotten so he stood up.

After pacing around the room, Patrick was aware of how alone he was in the room. It reminded him of what it was like before he had accepted Pete as a friend and before he had met the Wentz family. It used to be like this, aimless wandering when he had grown bored of playing the violin or listening to David's old records. And that had scared him at that time because he thought that if he felt that way it meant that he was beginning to forget his father. Patrick was eleven that time.

Now regretting turning down Pete's Mario Kart offer, the only game he could actually beat Pete in, Patrick slipped out of the room. He headed down the stairs and was on his way to the game room. He'd been so focused on finding the dark-haired boy that he didn't register the music being drifting down the hallway until he passed by the door right after Lewis' study. He stopped.

It had been some time since he last played the violin and he did miss the feeling of holding one in his own hands. The surprise of hearing that someone in this household knew how to play had encourages his curiosity to find out who the person was. Forgetting to knock, Patrick opened the door. The music hadn't stopped, instead continued to flow in a high and sweet melodious tune. The player wasn't in view until Patrick stepped inside the room and faced to his left.

Hilary had her eyes closed, her bow still moving across the strings as she swayed slightly to the music. She was very focused on getting the notes right because she hadn't heard Patrick, even when he cleared his throat. It was only until she put her violin down did she acknowledge his presence with arched eyebrows. "What is it?" She sounded faintly exasperated.

Patrick opened his mouth to answer then realized he didn't have any and shook his head. "Just passing by." He mumbled, drawing his gaze away from Hilary's piercing one. "I was looking for Pete but - I didn't know you played the violin." He told her.

Hilary sighed and placed her violin and her bow back in their case. "These things you'd know if you'd spend less time chasing after my brother." She said.

Had she worded her sentence differently, Patrick wouldn't have felt like she was prodding him as though she suspected him of developing an attachment for her older brother. Flushing indignantly, Patrick's lips thinned. "I  _wasn_ _'t_  chasing after him."

Hilary spread her hands in mock apology, the chipped black paint on her nails catching the light dully with the movement. "It just looks like that, no offense."

Patrick didn't like it when people added a "no offense" at the end of any sentence that sounded as though they were belittling someone. He felt that way when Hilary responded to him. "What's wrong with hanging out with Pete?" He was a bit too sharp with his question.

Hilary stared at him, her features softening. It was like someone had snapped a rubber band behind Patrick; he recognized that look. "You're pitying me." He said softly, the edge in his voice fading with as recognition took the place of hostility.

"I didn't say I was."

"You sound like it. You look like it." Patrick said. "Sympathetic behavior isn't something that I'm  _not_  familiar with, y'know?"

Hilary didn't take the bait, which made Patrick frustrated in a detached sense. Instead, she drew her legs up on her seat and studied the strawberry blond boy standing opposite her. In many ways, she was like Pete. They had the same olive skin, the same dark hair but where Pete's amber eyes shone with a happily careless gleam Hilary's glittered like that of an observant wolf's. It was unnerving.

Hilary exhaled with a mask of weariness on her face. "Sometimes, I really wonder what goes on in Pete's head." She said.

Patrick would agree if Pete's advice to be careful around his siblings hadn't echoed around his skull. The strawberry blond shook his head. "At least he saves space in there to remember to be nice to the Stumps." He said coldly.

Hilary's eyebrows arched. "Nice." She repeated. "Maybe instead of hanging out with Pete all the time, you  _could_  try to talk to either me or Andrew."

"Andrew doesn't think much of me. And every time he looks at me, it's like I have to watch my back otherwise something bad will happen when I least expect it." Patrick pointed out. "And I hardly see you around either. Also, it's not just me who's supposed to take the initiative to socialized with all of you. You should do too." His face was stiff with annoyance.

Hilary gave him a considering stare. "You sound like Pete when you say that." She told Patrick. "Like that time when he tried to get Andrew and I to try to talk to you."

"Well --" Blood rushed into Patrick's pale cheeks. "He's just telling you two what's right, that's all."

Hilary didn't respond right away and turned her face away. The corner of her lip had turned upwards, hinting amusement. "Huh, who knew ..." she mused.

"Knew what?"

"What's going on here?" Both Patrick and Hilary turned to see who it was and saw Lewis, peering round the door looking concerned. "I thought heard an argument." He added, leveling a question gaze at the two.

Even if Patrick told himself to get used to seeing Lewis around, there was a tiny twinge at the pit of his stomach. He tried for a smile at his stepfather-to-be but his mouth refused to curve the way he wanted; he gave up.

"Oh, it's nothing." Hilary waved her hand dismissively. With that, she scurried out of the music room, leaving both Lewis and Patrick alone.

Patrick regarded Lewis; unfortunately, his habit of studying the man for any similarities and differences Lewis had with David hadn't left Patrick and he was now comparing how Lewis' dark-gray pinstriped suit would've looked on David. And Patrick was also scrutinizing every detail of his stepfather-to-be's face, something that would remind him of David so he'd understand why Patricia had said Lewis reminded her of Patrick's father.

Lewis cleared his throat, slightly confused by the intensity of Patrick's stare. "If it's not too inconvenient for you, may I speak with you?" He sounded as though he were speaking with a business associate rather than a boy who'd be his stepson.

The formality of his tone made Patrick more aware of how Lewis was a stranger to him as much as Patrick was to Lewis. It wasn't a comforting thought but Patrick had to give the man some credit for trying. Still, his trust for the head of the Wentz household remained out of reach. Deciding it would do him better to try to get to know everyone else in the family besides Pete, Patrick nodded. "Sure."

"In my study, then." Lewis urged. Patrick followed him to the room next door.

Unlike the study Patrick's father had which had the walls lined with books and comfy armchairs by the fireplace, Lewis' was minimalistic compared to David's. A metal-framed bookshelf sat to the left of the room and there were only a few books - presumably on the topic of business - placed in it. A family portrait was hung on the opposite wall. With a faint jolt, Patrick realized it was a picture of the Wentz family as a whole, with Pete's mother.

At a glance, Patrick could tell she was a beautiful woman with brown skin, laughing eyes and a smile that could light up the whole room. There was something familiar in the way she held herself but before Patrick could take a closer look, Lewis had called him. He faced the man and took a seat across the desk where Lewis sat.

"How are you, Patrick?" Lewis asked.

"Um, I'm doing good." Patrick replied, although that was the generic answer he had for a question like this. "You?"

"Never been better." Lewis was sorting the papers that had been stacked on the desk even if they had already been neat enough to begin with. "So how are you enjoying your stay so far?"

Patrick hesitated then shrugged. "It's fine ... I guess? Why?"

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure my kids aren't given you a hard time." Lewis answered.

 _My kids_. Patrick thought of the man's words. He felt foreign in the this room now.

"Not really." The strawberry blond spoke. "But I wish I could get to know them better, besides Pete." He added. "I hardly see them around."

At that, the smile on Lewis' face faltered and Patrick knew they had just approached a somewhat difficult topic. Lewis nodded, drawing his gaze away from Patrick's blue-eyed one and straightened the fountain pen that sat on the desk near his hand. "Yes, they hardly stay at home these days, Andrew and Hilary. It used to be Pete who'd stay out till late at night. It used to worry me and Dale - Pete's mother - a lot."

Patrick didn't know what Pete was like before. It wasn't his business to know either but he caught curiosity prickling underneath his skin. "Really?" He asked before he could stop himself.

Lewis nodded with an expression of a person distracted by his thoughts. "Yes. But I'm grateful he got better though --" He broke off, eyes widening in the slightest as though he was aware that he was about to say too much. "But never mind that. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. Do you usually, say, have any nocturnal habits?"

Patrick thought it was rather sketchy how Lewis had asked him that and felt himself tense up warily. Nevertheless, he leveled his gaze with the man across the desk and said, "No, I don't. The only nocturnal habit I have is the urge to go to the toilet halfway through my sleep."

To Patrick's surprise, Lewis laughed. It was a brief but hearty one, the sort of mirth that made the man's eyes crinkle at the sides the way Pete's did. The tension in Patrick's body loosened.

"Oh, yes, that's quite annoying. Especially when you're already feeling comfy enough in your bed." Lewis agreed.

Patrick caught himself grinning when an alarm bell went off in his head. Why was he easing up to Lewis? He tried to lessen the curvature of his smile almost immediately. "Yea." He nodded, picking a stray thread on his jeans.

Noting the incoming lapse of silence that was bound to kill off the conversation, Lewis cleared his throat. "I hope we'll be able to ... get to know each other better as time goes along." He said slowly. "I understand if you find that this - your mother and I being engaged and all - is all moving too fast for you."

Patrick's neck ached to nod along because he agreed but he remained as still as he could.

"But I hope we'll be able to move past differences and accept each other." Lewis continued.

Patrick was numb all over but he managed to acknowledge what Lewis said with a smile. "Me too." He said, even if he knew he had his doubts. "Yea, that would be really great." He added although that was unnecessary.

At Patrick's response, Lewis seemed to ease up. The boy could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced away. "Alright, how about this?" Lewis began. "How about we - me and my kids, I mean - have dinner with you and your mother?"

Patrick's eyebrows arched. He wasn't sure where this was heading to and was wary of jumping on the offer. "I suppose, if Mom would be okay with that." Even with the neutral response, Lewis took it like Patrick had said yes.

The man was smiling now, a bit too enthusiastically for the strawberry blond boy, and clasped his hands. "Wonderful. I'll ask Patricia if she's willing to. Where'd you prefer to dine?"

Patrick was now wishing he could veer away but as there was no escape, he had to think of any place to answer Lewis otherwise it'd be undoubtedly rude to shrug and make some sort of noncommittal reply. The pressure to choose a place was weighing heavily on his shoulders. "Um, how about my place? You haven't been there, right?" Patrick wanted to punch himself for speaking before thinking.

Too late to change now.

Lewis considered this briefly. "Oh, well, that's a nice suggestion." He said and Patrick's stomach dropped. "Well, I'll try to see if I can make an available slot in my schedule for this dinner. And, thank you for giving some of your time to talk. I understand you might have some things to do currently so I'll leave you to it."

Patrick had trouble processing what Lewis had said, his brain still pissing over itself for allowing impulse to act before reasoning. "Oh, okay." He bit his lip. "I'll see you at dinner, Lewis." He said and left the room.

Once he was outside the study, Patrick leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. Uncertainty lingered beside him and he was tempted to return to the room and call the dinner thing off. But he stood there, trying to make sense of what had happened earlier.

 _You started this. You'll stick through_. He attempted himself firmly but the resolve wasn't there. Pushing back the strands of strawberry blond hair that fell across his face, he made himself stand and walk away, towards the destination he had initially had in mind.

Pushing the door of the game room open, Patrick's eyes immediately scanned the room for Pete. Confusion rose over him when he realized the tv wasn't even switched on, and the older boy wasn't anywhere in sight. Where had Pete went?

"Pete?" He called out, entering the room. "Where are you?"

"On the floor." Patrick nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Pete as he went round the couch. He looked down and was astonished to find Pete on resting on the floor, playing a handheld console; Patrick's foot rested a few inches away from the dark-haired boy's head.

"What are you doing down there?" Patrick inquired.

"What's it look like?' Pete asked but moved to sit with his back against the couch. "I'm playing Pokemon right now. Wanna watch?"

Patrick didn't have to think twice about that. He sat down beside Pete, scooting closer so he could see what was going on in Pete's game. Their shoulders were touching and the distance between Patrick's head and Pete's was about few inches.

At this proximity, Patrick was very aware of the feeling of Pete's arm pressing against his and Pete's scent, which smelled faintly of fresh laundry. He was also very aware that every time Pete made some sort of frustrated noise at the back of his throat or a muffled whimper, it cause his whole body to tingle.

It wasn't a bad sensation but Patrick was worried it might lead to something else; already his mind was running away.

"So, Pattycakes!" Pete said so abruptly that Patrick's heart nearly leapt out of his ribcage. "How are you feeling?"

This was a rather odd question, Patrick thought. "I'm feeling fine. Why?"

Pete shrugged. "You seemed kinda, I dunno, just a bit down after school. I was worried." That particular statement comforted Patrick.

"No, really. I'm fine."

Pete gave him an unconvinced sidelong glance. "Well okay. If you say so." He mumbled. "But there's something I'm planning to do later and I need your help - if that's okay with you?" He had turned his attention away from his video game and was regarding Patrick.

Those eyes, the way those amber eyes looked at Patrick made it very hard to say no. And that was if he was thinking. But with Pete, Patrick knew his first reaction wouldn't be to take the time to consider what the older boy was suggesting. His answer would unfailingly be a yes, by default now.


	29. 2.7

Patrick wished Lewis hadn't bothered to make the last night of his stay a matter that required the Wentz family to gather round at the parlor. He felt it was rather unnecessary and that this was possibly a subtle way Lewis was attempting to win Patrick over. If that was the case, it only succeeded in making the whole gathering awkward and embarrassing.

"You didn't have to get me this." Patrick's face went bright red when Lewis passed him a slice of strawberry cake. "I mean, it's not such a big deal."

"Yea. It's not like we'd miss him anyway." Andrew muttered under his breath as he passed by Patrick, sounding very annoyed indeed. Patrick hated to admit it but he agreed with Andrew, well at least on eldest and the youngest Wentz siblings' behalf.

Patrick gave a tight-lipped smile to Lewis and sat himself by the couch furthest away from Andrew. Unfortunately, it was also the only seat that had Andrew directly in his view and Patrick was considering getting up to move if it hadn't been for Pete who plopped himself down beside the strawberry blond.

"Don't mind jerkface over there." Pete told Patrick although it was hardly necessary.

"I'm not minding him." The younger boy said, miffed, as he ate bites of the cake. "He's the one  _minding_  me."

"Fair point."

"What do you think of that cake, Patrick?" Lewis asked, joining both Pete and Patrick at the couch. From the corner of the strawberry blond's eye, Patrick caught Andrew rolling his eyes in annoyance. Hilary, who was right beside her brother, had seen his expression but said nothing; possibly she agreed with him but it was difficult to tell when she was wearing an impassive look on her features.

"It tastes great." Patrick replied. "Thank you, by the way." He added. Even if it had been Lewis who got the cake for him, Patrick suspected it was Pete's idea because only Pete would want to spoil him that way. He cut a sideways glance at the older boy, whose eyes had darted away from his and whose lips had turned upwards in the slightest at the corners.

"No problem." Lewis replied politely before he finished the rest of his slice. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer with you kids because of work but enjoy yourselves, alright? I'll see you all tomorrow morning." He placed his plate on the coffee table, smiling at his children and Patrick before he left.

The parlor, despite the four people present in it, was silent until after they heard the front door shut and the rumble of a car engine from outside.

It was Andrew who spoke first. "Thought he'd never leave!" He exclaimed, sounding exasperated before he sprang from his seat. Pulling out his phone, his fingers began to fly over the screen as he texted.

Hilary frowned up at him and so did Pete. "Andrew, no." The two said in unison; it was eerie how they had both used the same tone, Patrick thought.

Andrew ignored them when he grinned right after his phone let out a notification ding. Appearing pleased with himself, he pocketed his mobile device. "I suggest you suckers clear out before my friends come over." He told the younger individuals in the room. There was a certain way his tone rolled over his words, which caused Patrick to feel rather apprehensive all of a sudden.

At the mention of friends, Pete paled, eyes widening with disbelief. "Andrew, no." His voice was tight. "You didn't." Patrick's breath hitched when he felt Pete tensed and wrap his hand around Patrick's wrist like the older boy was preparing to lead him away should anything happen.

Hilary, sensing her brother's badly hidden shock, frowned at her other brother. "Couldn't you meet up with them elsewhere?" She asked. "Honestly, you  _know_  what happened the last time you asked them to come over to our place."

"I don't recall hearing you complain about it back then." Andrew scowled at her.

Hilary's cheeks flushed an indignant shade of red. "Just not ... " She trailed off, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist. Her gaze moved upwards, crossing with Patrick's before she flitted it away, embarrassment blooming on her features.

"So what?" Andrew scowled. "It's not my fault that  _we_  have to babysit." He sneered and this time he didn't bother to face Patrick, making sure his words caught the younger boy's full attention. His attempt was successful, though.

Patrick felt his own face burn up as anger churned like a hot wave under his ribcage. He was sick of the Wentz siblings treating him like he was a child that needed looking after or an unwanted guest in the house - the latter of which was partially true. Blood pulsed audibly in his ears. "I appreciate the concern, Andrew, but I can look after myself,  _thanks_." He snapped.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with tension. The younger Wentz siblings shifted uncomfortably, their eyes alternating between the eldest of them and strawberry blond boy.

Even with Patrick glaring at him, Andrew still managed to smirk; one would say he appeared highly amused. "Well, if you insist." He said in a mocking manner

*

"Patrick, please." Pete was pleading. "Just stay in my room tonight and don't come downstairs." He said for what felt like the twelfth time since Patrick stood up to Andrew. He still looked pale and worried though the strawberry blond was too indignant about Andrew to care.

The two of them were in the kitchen now, with Patrick leaning against the counter with his arms crossed while Pete loaded the dishwasher. The dark-haired boy could've let his housekeeper, Antonia, to do the cleaning up but he insisted on doing the job anyway.

"What's so bad about his friends that you keep asking me to stay clear?" Patrick demanded, annoyed. "If this is what you're gonna treat me like as a brother, I want you to stop. I'm not a little boy, Pete. And --"

"That's not what I'm worried about!" Pete said sharply. The tension in the atmosphere grew thick at the older boy's outburst. Realizing he had yelled at Patrick, he squeezed his eyes shut and placed both hands on Patrick's shoulders. "It's just ... his friends don't like me much and they always make sure to show it in any way they can."

"Okay but what does this have to do with me?"

"Out of everyone in the family, who are you closest to?" Pete's dark amber eyes were serious as they regarded Patrick's baby blue ones. "Tell me."

"You." Patrick replied without hesitation.

"I don't want them to bother you because of me." Pete told him.

Patrick liked Pete. But it was starting to grate on him that the older boy kept sticking his neck out for him. Didn't Pete think Patrick was capable of managing things for himself? Still, he was rather wary of why Pete was going lengths to keep Patrick away from trouble. Not to mention the hints that Lewis and Hilary kept dropping was making him suspicious.

Before Patrick could reply, the two boys heard voices floating down the hallway, all of which were masculine. Pete's eyes widened with worry before he turned to Patrick, who was frowning in bemusement. "Shit." Pete bit his lower lip, blanching slightly.

Patrick glanced at him then took a bold move to the door. Just as he approached, a group of boys with Andrew passed by. Patrick's heart skipped a beat when recognition smacked him in his face. One of the boys had looked his way and was grinning. "What a surprise." The boy mused.

Patrick shook his head, feeling sick and scared all over. He began to step away, backing into Pete. "Leon."

Leon smirked, amused by Patrick's reaction. His gaze traveled over to a white-faced Pete and then his eyes gleamed dangerously. "Careful now, kiddo." He said. Belatedly, Patrick realized Leon was addressing him. "Don't want to end up like your buddy over there." He said derisively, indicating Pete.

Andrew appeared, looked over at his brother and at Patrick, before a sneer appeared on his features. "Oh I wouldn't bother, Leon." He told the boy was staring at Pete and Patrick. "It's too late anyway."

With that, the two of them turned to leave. Once they were out of sight, Patrick raised his hand. He was shaking visibly. Trying to steady himself, he reached out blindly to his side.

Pete gave a tiny start when Patrick had held him by the hand but relaxed when he noticed the strawberry blond's expression. He opened his mouth to speak and Patrick braced himself for the dreaded "I told you so," speech. Instead, the dark haired boy squeezed Patrick's hand and asked in a soft tone. "Now you know why?" He didn't sound angry that Patrick had refused to listen to him at first.

Patrick bit his lip but said nothing in reply.

*

Afterwards Pete and Patrick were back upstairs in the older boy's room. They hadn't spoken since earlier even though Patrick was aching to ask questions about what Leon and Andrew meant, and voice his thoughts about Pete. But he didn't dare to and neither did the dark-haired boy seem in the mood to speak. All too soon, Pete announced that he was tired and went to bed after greeting a curt "goodnight" to Patrick.

Now that he was the only person awake in the room, Patrick tried to amuse himself by taking pictures of random objects for fun with his Polaroid but even that lost its novelty after a few shots. With a sigh, he set his camera down and proceeded to look through his bag. To his dismay, he realized the photos he took the other day when him and Pete played hooky now resided at the bottom of his bag. Only some of them were crinkled or folded at the ends but the sight still made his chest ache.

Setting them all on the floor, Patrick began to smooth them out with his palm and arranged them. He figured he should probably get an album to compile them all or make a scrapbook for him and Pete. He paused, holding the photo of Pete resting his head on Patrick's shoulder with a contented expression as they lay on the grass in a park they visited. It had been a miracle that Pete hadn't dropped the Polaroid on his face while doing so but Patrick remembered the way he felt when the older boy had moved closer to him and beamed at him like the sun.

That tight-chested breathless feeling of exhiliration and warmth surrounding him.

It was precisely that sensation that made Patrick struggle to wrap his head around the fact that he had to call Pete his brother.

Of course Patrick should be worried. Of course he should try to bury that feeling so deep that he'd forget all about it.

Could he do those? No.

Sighing softly in frustration, he dropped the Polaroid on the floor and brought his legs up to his body, hugging them. He rested his chin on his knees and shut his eyes. All he wanted was for Pete to look at him the same way he did at the park, like Patrick was the person who could make him smile that way. Not the way Pete had looked at him earlier at the living room like Patrick was a child who needed to be protected.

Was it bad that Patrick didn't want Pete as a brother? He was almost certain it was.

Did Pete feel the same way? He hoped he did although that was wishful thinking.

But if Pete had smiled at him the way he did at the park and had remained that close to him even after the photo was taken, didn't that count for something?

*

Patrick jolted awake when he felt someone shake his shoulder urgently. He had just become aware of his face pressed up against a cold, hard surface and winced at how sore his body was when he rolled to his side. Blinking groggily at the shape of a figure leaning over him, he let out a soft groan. "What?" He yawned.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?" The person turned out to be Pete, regarding him worriedly with wide eyes. "And when did you fall asleep?"

Patrick was painfully aware that their faces were a few inches away from each other. His mouth went dry as he stared up at Pete. "Um." He responded.

Pete shook his head and moved away so Patrick could sit up. His hair was still messy from sleep, sticking up like a dark halo around his head. "Sheesh, I thought you fainted or something. You got me so worried!" He frowned.

"I was sorting out the Polaroids." Patrick stretched himself, wincing when he heard his joints crack. Rubbing his eyes, he looked over his shoulder at Pete. "What time is it?"

"Two in the morning."

"Isn't that way too early?" Patrick frowned.

An upwards curve sat crookedly on Pete's lips. "Remember the thing I said about needing your help?" He asked.

"I won't be throwing eggs at Andrew's car." Patrick said because it felt something Pete would plan to do. "Just putting that out there."

Pete gave him an openly indignant glare. "Well that's very tempting but he'd know it's me if I do it at home. No, it's something more important than that."

"Throwing eggs at Leon's car?"

"Can you  _stop_  with the eggs thing?" Pete said exasperatedly though the slight upturned corners of his mouth suggested he was amused with what Patrick had thought. "Honestly Patrick, what do you take me for?"

"A troublemaker." Patrick replied honestly. That had been his impression of the older boy when they first met.

Pete rolled his eyes and stood up. "Go put on something warm or whatever, Fuzzy. We're going out." He told Patrick, heading towards the closet in search of clothes.

Patrick was bewildered. "Why? And where are we going?" He questioned as he followed Pete in the closet.

Pete was pulling out a backpack and was stuffing what looked like an old blanket into it. "That'll ruin the surprise, Fuzzy. And you wouldn't want that."

"You're so extra, you know that?" Patrick scowled at the back of Pete's head and threw a pair of socks at him. "It's annoying."

Pete laughed. "Ahh but you still put up with me so it must mean you like me!" As soon as the sentence ended, Patrick felt his chest contract with fear. Did Pete know?

Patrick glanced quickly at Pete, unable to mask the worry in his eyes. But Pete was only zipping up the backpack, humming an offkey tune under his breath. He gave no indication that he meant what Patrick thought he did; the strawberry blond wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed, which was strange.

"Oh Pete." Patrick sighed, his voice quavering at the end.

"I love you too."

If only Pete knew what those words meant to Patrick then maybe he wouldn't be throwing them out so carelessly.


	30. 2.8

Total darkness.

That was what Patrick was seeing on the ride to this mystery destination that Pete refused to reveal till they reached there. The older boy had him blindfolded, which was rather unnecessary but Patrick could hardly argue with Pete as his mind was still addled with sleep then.

But now Patrick's mind was very alert, heightening his other senses. For instance, he was aware of his own heartbeat thumping hard in his chest. Or the sound of Pete humming almost inaudibly under his breath to the tune of  _wink-_ _732_ _'s_  She's Out Of Her Mind. Or the scent of the car freshener on the upholstery.

Sneaking out of the house wouldn't have been difficult had it not been for the dark-haired boy insisting a kitchen raid, with some of Andrew's friends already present there. They had expressed their dislike for him, influenced by Leon and Andrew alike, and after some name-calling and a threat or two, Pete and Patrick were eventually left alone. The two boys had managed to grab whatever they could find, stuffing the food and drinks into their bags before they left.

Patrick had suspected they were probably going to be out for awhile although why this night out of all nights he didn't question.

"Pete, when will we reach there?" The strawberry blond asked with a hint of impatience in his tone, a result of proper answers being withheld from him. "We've been driving for  _hours_."

"Half an hour. Don't be dramatic." Pete corrected, amused. "You'll see." He added to answer Patrick's question.

"That's a cruel joke, Pete. You know I can't." Patrick pointed at his face. "I'm blindfolded." He could always remove the cloth obscuring his vision but for some obscure reason his logic couldn't comprehend, he didn't. Exhaling for the show of his annoyance, he crossed his arms.

"You're always welcome to take the blindfold off, y'know." The older boy's voice was teasing.

"Haha." Patrick rolled his eyes even though Pete couldn't see and rested his head against the headrest.

The strawberry blond was well aware that in a few more hours he'd have to return home. If you counted out the drama that came along with the package, Patrick had enjoyed his time so much staying with the Wentz family - well, with Pete. This made him rather hesitant about the thought of returning home. Of course, there were perks like his bed, having Joe cook him his favorite meal and the absence of Andrew, but Patrick knew he'd miss falling asleep beside Pete the most.

However there'd be the dinner to look forward to, Patrick reasoned with himself. Everyone would have to act civilly, even Andrew was required to. Somehow the idea appealed to Patrick.

"Are you mad at me?" The older boy's voice broke into Patrick's reverie. "You're very quiet."

"I'm trying to sleep."

Pete shook his head. "Well, we have ten more minutes till we reach there."

" _Now_  you say it." Patrick huffed in exasperation, sitting up. He faced Pete and even if he couldn't see the older boy, he could imagine Pete smirking at him. "So will this be the moment you tell me what all the fuss is about?" From the way the car was moving, he suspected they were off the highway and were traveling on a long and winding road.

A sudden idea occurred to Patrick. "By any chance, you're not bringing me to some secret cult meeting, are you?" He asked worriedly.

Pete laughed. "You have a wild imagination." He said when Patrick felt a hand pinch his cheek. The strawberry blond made a half-startled and half-indignant noise, smacking it away.  "Relax. Besides, it's something I'm sure you'll love." Pete said reassuringly.

Patrick felt the tension ebb out of him from the tone of Pete's voice. Biting his lip, he settled back against his seat and decided not to question the dark-haired boy for now.

Pete was true to his word. By the time ten minutes were over, the car pulled to a stop. Eager curiosity and anticipation were obvious in the way the younger boy had drawn himself up and unbuckled his seatbelt hurriedly. Witnessing this, Pete smiled to himself, a mix of relief and anxious in his expression as he watched Patrick struggle to take off the blindfold.

Grinning to himself, Pete placed his hand above Patrick's fingers. "Here. Lemme help." He offered before allowing Patrick's hands to move away. Then he undid the knot, silently cursing to himself for tying it tightly. Patrick made a few muffled yelps when Pete pulled his hair by accident a couple of times but otherwise remained very still. Once he had undone the knot, Pete drew back and held his breath.

As his vision was fuzzy, Patrick had to blink hard several times to adjust. "Oh." The monosyllablic word slipped past his parted lips the moment he saw where Pete had taken him.

Their car was parked at the peak of a hill overlooking the town where they lived. Above them was the night sky, belted by the Milky Way and constellations that danced across it. It was such a lovely view that Patrick was speechless for a minute.

"We'll sit on the roof." Pete told an awed Patrick, who had difficulty tearing his attention away from the view. "We'll be able to see it better." What he meant by that cryptic  _it_ , Patrick allowed it to slip past his proclivity for asking questions.

Fumbling over the door handle, it took the strawberry blond a few tries to get the door open. He stepped out, his feet touching hard packed dirt. As Pete was round the back taking their things out of the trunk, Patrick decided to have a look around. Picking his phone out of his pocket, he turned on the flashlight function and held it up.

There was a barrier surrounding the edge to prevent cars from hurtling over to the bottom. A rusty looking pay-to-view binoculars was attached to it. Patrick gathered this hill must've been some point of interest for people to visit before it became disused over time. He poked the binoculars experimentally.

"I wouldn't use that if I were you. Even if it's still working." Pete's voice rang out from behind Patrick. "It looks like it's made out of tetanus or something." He added with concern.

Patrick stepped back from the binoculars and walked back to the car. Pete had slung his bag over his back and was climbing onto the hood of the car. Patrick's lips pursed when he saw the scuff marks the older boy's shoes left on the shiny surface.

"Whatcha looking at?" Pete asked now standing on the hood.

Patrick shook his head. "Your car." He beamed his phone's flashlight at the hood. "The dirt, specifically."

"I can get it washed." Pete shrugged. "Now scoot over. You're gonna miss out." He said, now unzipping his bag. Producing the old blanket from it, he spread it over the roof and turned to find Patrick approaching the vehicle hesitantly. He grinned and extended his hand. "C'mon Patty." He said gently.

After shoving his phone into his back pocket, Patrick grabbed Pete's hand. There were moments when the older boy's hand would brush over him but to actually hold it, to feel his callused fingertips, his fleshy palm and his strong grip, made Patrick's breath catch at the back of his throat. Unlike Pete, Patrick had clambered onto the hood ungracefully.

"Easy does it." Pete helped Patrick to stand.

"Thanks." Patrick smiled gratefully at him before he realized they were still holding hands. While a part of him knew he should probably let go, he didn't want to. Besides, holding Pete's hand was sorta nice. It made him feel a warm buzz in his veins. However it was Pete who let him go.

Pete took a seat on the car roof, scooting over to make space for Patrick. "Watch the windshield." He warned as the younger boy made to sit. Once the two of them were settled comfortably, they were said nothing for the next minute.

It was the feeling of tranquility, being under the wide and starry sky and the sounds of crickets and distant noises from town in the background, that didn't make the silence awkward for the two.

"Well this is nice." It was Patrick who spoke, turning to Pete who was gazing up the sky.

The dark-haired boy laughed. "Yea. And it's about to get better." He glanced at his phone screen. "Soon." He added.

Patrick couldn't help but smile, even if he didn't know what they were supposed to be anticipating. He pulled his legs up and hugged them, resting his chin on his knees as he stared at the stars in the sky; it was truly a beautiful sight seeing so many at once. This was something he couldn't fully appreciate at other times, given the fact that he was too preoccupied with homework and that the lights in town drowned out the starlight.

Now that they were out here, up on a hill in the dark with nothing to illuminate their way except for the stars, he could marvel the sight. Not only that, he could marvel it with Pete.

"Hey." Pete sat up, sitting closer to Patrick that they were shoulder to shoulder. "So since it's your last night with me for now, what do you think? Of your stay, I mean." He asked softly. Patrick couldn't help but notice that he said "me," referring to himself, and not "us," which he should've used as Patrick was technically staying with Pete's family. The younger boy couldn't help but feel ensnared in the other boy's gaze.

"It was ... good, I guess." Patrick said. "I mean, I enjoyed it a lot, if you count out Andrew being mean to me and all and Hilary being ... --" Despite him having mixed feelings about Pete's sister, he couldn't find anything about her that displeased him to say. He bit his lip. "It's nice." He said, letting go of his legs and stretching them out.

"Nice?" Pete was digging out the contents of his backpack again, producing paper cups and a bottle of fizzy lemonade. He poured them both a cup of the liquid.

Patrick accepted the drink from Pete. "Yea, nice."

"Oh."

Patrick frowned, taking a sip of the lemonade. "What? Were you expecting me to say something else? Like other than nice?"

The older boy shook his head, smiling disbelievingly. "Kinda. Thought you might complain or something." He admitted with an undertone of self-consciousness. He swirled his cup before drinking.

"About what?"

"I dunno. Like me making the weirdest food."

"The instant noodles on toast did  _not_  do you justice." Patrick said right away, instantly making Pete laugh. "But I liked the cheese-flavored nachos dipped in chocolate."

"Yea, and I'm the Head Chef who works at a five-star restaurant in Paris." Pete snorted, rolling his eyes.

Patrick grinned, nudging the dark-haired boy playfully. " _Tout est bon mon petite chou_." He said.

"What does that mean?" Pete stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I failed French but I know you said cabbage." He frowned, thinking very hard.

"All is good, little cabbage." Patrick translated with a laugh.

Pete shook his head at him before lapsing into a thoughtful silence. He tugged on the sleeves of his oversized heather gray sweater with an absentminded air. "Hard to believe time flew by so fast." He told Patrick in a quiet tone. "But you enjoyed it, right?"

"Yes, I did."

The dark-haired boy nodded to himself. He set his cup down. The insouciant side of Pete that was always visible to the world began to wane, revealing the vulnerable person he was on the inside. He looked at the younger boy, who was gazing at the sky, for the longest time from the corner of his eye. He was trying to work up the courage to do what he had intended to do in the first place and with every passing moment, his determination crumbled a little.

Pete was scared. He really was. Though Patrick seemed like an understanding person, he was afraid that what he wanted to say would change what the younger boy thought of him.  "Listen, Patrick. I ... have something I wanna talk about. Well, a lot to talk about."

"Hm?" Patrick looked at him distractedly. "Sure. What is it?" He asked before he noticed that Pete was being serious. Instantly forgetting the constellation he was about to point out, he face the older boy. "What do you want to talk about?"

Pete chewed the insides of his mouth, glancing at his shoes. "I don't even know where to start."

Patrick couldn't help but say, "The beginning is a good place to start."

Pete laughed, the sound cracking from the weight of the information he was holding within his chest. "Okay. Well, what do you think of me?"

The simplicity of the question caught Patrick off guard; he'd been expecting Pete to start maundering. The strawberry blond stared at him for a moment that seemed to freeze in time. There were just so many answers to that questions and Patrick could list them all if he had the time and the courage. His mouth was dry. "I --" Patrick struggled to speak. "I think you're ... a great person, overall." He answered. "And that you're cool ... you're friendly ... sometimes a bit annoying --"

Pete chuckled.

"But you've got a big heart - I guess - or maybe that's because you're always nice to me and all --" Patrick's voice quavered as he met Pete's eyes which had softened. He was glad it was too dark to see otherwise the older boy would've known his face had gone very red. He held his breath. He couldn't believe he was telling all this without even being scared that Pete might put two and two and figure out his feelings.

Patrick bit his lip, shutting his eyes. "And I like you. A lot. More than I should." He wanted to say that. But his lips refused to shape the words; he wasn't  _ready_  for that. He knew he was still afraid. "I think," He said, aloud this time. "You'd make an awesome brother."

This was the one lie Patrick allowed himself to tell for Pete's sake.

Pete smiled, eyes gleaming when Patrick said that. "Thanks." He said, rubbing his nose.

Heart thumping hard in his chest, Patrick raised his hand and placed it on Pete's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His body was tense from holding back the urge to wrap his arms around the dark-haired boy and telling him whatever he wanted to hear. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?" The strawberry blond boy asked.

Slowly, Pete shook his head. "No. I just wanted to hear what you think of me, that's all."

"More lemonade?" Patrick suggested, noticing Pete's empty cup.

"Would trade it for shots." Pete sighed. "Except I'm not that kind of person anymore." He added as he gave Patrick his cup.

Patrick frowned as he poured Pete another round of the fizzy drink. He recalled Lewis saying something about Pete having nightly habits and Hilary mentioning something about Pete changing. With what Pete had said just now, he couldn't help but feel it was too much of a coincidence that these might be connected to each other. "What do you mean?" He said carefully.

Pete's lips thinned. There was a faraway look on his features. "Raging hormones. Rebellious attitude. Being a stupid teenager." He said. "I was rude as hell and I didn't give a fuck about things. It was a bad time. I was fifteen when  _it_  happened."

Patrick felt himself stiffen involuntarily but he said nothing. His eyes and his attention were all on Pete now, hanging on to the following words.

"Got drunk at a party and stuff. I didn't remember much but I woke up in the hospital later that night." Pete said, uninflected. "Dad was pretty pissed that I snuck out of the house and that he had to cancel a meeting with an important client - which I thought was bullshit - because of me. Mom was there too but she wasn't mad at me, just disappointed, which was worse. I remember hearing them argue because of me and it was awful.

"Dad didn't really care about me back then and Mom was always busy managing some of Dad's businesses so you couldn't blame me for wanting their attention when I'd been growing up. So it just got to the point when I hated them because I thought they didn't care. Andrew kinda played a small part of it because he got me into the wrong crowd. Not that I blame him entirely though, it was also  _my_  fault.

"Back to the part where my parents were arguing and stuff, I think Dad said something to hurt Mom's feelings real bad - I don't remember because the meds were kicking back. I also remember waking up the next day to a bleary-eyed Dad. I could tell right away something was wrong because he rubbed his cheeks when I called for him.

"I had to ask him what was wrong a couple times until he broke. He told me 'Your mother is dead.' I thought that was a sick joke and all because it's  _my_  mother. The woman who raised me  _couldn_ _'t_  be dead. I needed her, my siblings still needed her. God couldn't have been that cruel. But she was dead and even if I didn't want to believe him, I had to. He said she died in an accident with a truck because she was speeding.

"And he broke down. Something in me, some  _ugly monster_  thought he was faking it - after all, he did cheat on Mom. But he was really heartbroken about it. We didn't talk for days, even after Mom's funeral. I was in a slump. If I hadn't been who I was back then, Mom would still be alive and my family wouldn't have been so  _fucked_. I  _could've_  been a better brother to my siblings and a better son to my parents."

Pete looked at Patrick. His face was wet from the tears he shed yet his voice was steady. "Do you still think I'm a good person?" He asked.

Patrick only begun to register the pain in his chest after hearing Pete's story. He didn't even realize he'd been crying. "I --" He was unable to answer.

Pete's mouth thinned into a line. "That's what I thought. I'm not as great as you think I am, Patrick. I was a horrible person and I  _don't_  deserve to be a brother to an amazing person like you."

"Was." Patrick whispered.

Pete frowned. "What?"

" _Was_." Patrick repeated, raising his voice slightly so the older boy could hear. "Past tense." When Pete gave him a bewildered stare, he elaborated. "You said 'I was a horrible person.' Well, look at you now." He wiped the back of his hand across his face to dry the tears. "You're not the same person back then, are you?"

"No, but --"

" _Exactly_." Patrick cut Pete off. "You've gotten from that point to this point in, what, two years?"

"Patrick --"

"No.  _Listen to me._ " Patrick placed a hand over Pete's mouth to shut him up. "You could've become a bitter person. You could've beaten yourself over and over until you lose the will to live because of that. But you didn't. You realized your mistakes and you worked so hard to clean your act and pull yourself together. And that's that! It's the self-realization and the effort to try to become better person that  _counts_. You should be proud of that!"

"But --" Pete tried to say past Patrick's hand but the younger boy was on a roll.

"And I bet your dad is proud of you, proud of how you've carried yourself from that low point. And your mom too." Patrick said, making sure to maintain eye contact with Pete. "Peter Kingston Lewis Wentz The Third, you are strong and you are a fighter. And I don't care if you about your past - to hell with that! I  _care_  about the person you are now because you're the best person you could ever be."

"Thanks, Patrick." Pete's eyes shone. "Also it's Peter  _Lewis Kingston_  Wentz The Third, thank you very much." He corrected.

Patrick's face burned. "Oh." He'd been so passionate on his speech, he got Pete's name mixed up.

"Yea." Pete laughed, his eyes shining with amusement. "But thank you for believing in me."

"You'd do the same too." Patrick said quietly. The two boys regarded each other in that moment of silence; there was everything and there was nothing in their gazes.

A breeze began to pick up, blowing strands of dark hair into Pete's face. It wasn't him who pushed it away but Patrick who did it. The older boy's breath caught by the gesture.

"How did the world ever let me get to meet you and know you as a person?" Pete's voice was uneven. The strawberry blond looked up at him through his lashes. Pete shook his head, smiling to himself. "C'mere you." He spread his arms.

Patrick didn't spare a moment to consider, blindly going right for the embrace. The two boys held each other tightly for the longest time that they could feel each other's heartbeat against their chests.

"Pete?" Patrick said, his breath brushing over the older boy's ear.

"Yea?" Pete's voice was raw. "What is it?" When Patrick didn't reply, he felt worry spike in his veins. He drew away from the strawberry blond, expecting the worst when he saw Patrick staring at the sky with his mouth open in awe.

Slowly, Pete looked to where he was gazing at and laughed softly to himself. "This is what I brought you out to see. A meteor shower." He said, craning his head so he could see the streaks of light falling across the sky like angels descending from Heaven. "I hope you like it, Patrick."

"I love it." Patrick breathed, feeling the corners of his mouth lift upwards. "Thanks for bringing me out here to see this."

"Anytime, Fuzzy, anytime."


	31. 2.9

Patrick sat on the bleachers, sweaty and breathless, after completing laps around the school track. Wiping his brow, he placed a sports towel over his head and took sips of water from his bottle. A few of the boys from his Gym class were resting a few rows down, sharing jokes and exchanging banter. While Patrick recognized them and shared classes with some of the boys, he was reluctant to join their conversation.

Besides, Mikey and Jon should almost be finished with their laps, that's if Mikey hasn't gotten a bad leg cramp or Jon  _faking_  a bad leg cramp - it was a shame that Jon didn't join the Drama and Theater Club; he was good at acting.

While waiting, Patrick's mind drifted to thoughts of his night out with Pete. Now that he was idle, he could remember the whole thing clearly. The aftertaste of fizzy lemonade on his tongue, the awe and marvel he felt when he witnessed the meteor shower and Pete falling asleep on his shoulder while they watched the sky. Patrick remembered exactly how he had realized that last bit.

Pete had been unusually silent and had settled on Patrick's shoulder for some time - not that the younger boy had complained about it. So when Patrick had turned his face slightly, he caught the sight of Pete sleeping. He remembered how his chest had ached with the warm rush of affection for Pete. He remembered placing his hand on Pete's, and trying to picture what it'd be like if their situation were different, if they weren't supposed to be stepbrothers.

The thought had made a sudden pang of longing for something he couldn't have to overcome Patrick, resulting in sadness closing its cold fist around his heart. He had bitten his lip and stared skywards, willing the stinging in his eyes to leave. He was barely touching Pete, well if you counted out the fact that he was technically touching the older boy who had his head resting on Patrick's shoulder.

But the strawberry blond wanted to. He longed for the feeling of knowing what holding Pete's hand felt like. He wanted to touch Pete's hair to see if those dark strands did look as soft and silken as they looked. He was tempted to wrap his arms around Pete and hold him till he fell asleep. And he was curious to know what kissing Pete would be like.

Patrick had known that night, while watching the stars fall from the sky, that his feelings for Pete were different. He had realized he  _loved_  Pete, but not in the way he was supposed to. He had remembered a time when all he wanted to do was to stay away from Pete but that felt like a lifetime ago; he couldn't imagine what it'd be like if he carried on with that mindset, not giving Pete a chance.

Later that night, before the threads of daybreak had begun to creep up the sky, Patrick had driven the both of them back to the Wentz mansion. After tucking Pete in, Patrick had sat at the edge of the bed. All the things he'd realized earlier, their weight crashed down on Patrick. He didn't cry. He was too worn out for that. But he remembered carefully settling himself beside Pete and facing away from the older boy before shutting his eyes.

Thoughts had run like wild stallions in Patrick's mind until he finally fell asleep. Unfortunately that brief period of slumber lasted for about three-quarters of an hour before the alarm clock went off, waking the two boys up so they could get to school on time.

"Hey, you feeling okay there?" A soft and concerned voice broke into Patrick's reverie. The world came into focus with a lanky figure standing before him. Blinking, Patrick realized it was that brown-eyed boy Pete introduced to him the other day talking. Patrick couldn't exactly recall the name but he knew it started with an  _R_. Riley? Regan? Randy?

"Ryan." Patrick recalled the name after staring at the taller boy for a moment too long. "Yea, I'm okay. "Why'd you ask?" He said, pulling off the towel on his head.

"I thought you were going to pass out or something." Ryan answered sheepishly. "You do look a bit red and you're panting a lot."

"I'm just tired from running laps."

A flush crept on Ryan's pale complexion. "Sorry." He mumbled, embarrassed. "It's a habit I picked up from summer camp this year when I worked as a counselor. The kids didn't listen to me when I told them to stay hydrated so they were prone to fainting and stuff."

Patrick shook his head. "It's fine."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Ryan asked. "It's almost lunch and Brendon told me to meet me here but I haven't seen him."

"Haven't seen him either." Patrick said, remembering that Brendon was that boy who seemed to be permanently on crack because he was always so quirky and exciteable. The strawberry blond patted the spot beside him. "Sure, feel free."

Ryan sat down. He had a graceful and delicate way when he moved, which Patrick found intriguing considering that he did seem like the type who'd be a bit clumsy - not to mention he did have a boisterous streak whenever he was around his friends.

Ryan took off his school jacket and laid it across his lap before he began to fold his sleeves until just below his elbows. "Well, if you ever need help or to get something off your chest," The brunet looked at Patrick. "I'll be there to listen to you."

"Thanks."

Ryan smiled. He stared out at the field with a pensive look in his gaze. "So, how's things going with the Wentz family?" He asked.

At first, Patrick thought Ryan was asking about how things were going with Pete when he realized the boy meant the entire family. Pete must've talked about how things were going at home to Ryan. "Well, not the way I hoped it would turn out." He admitted, thinking about Andrew, Hilary, Lewis and Pete.

This was true for all of them but Pete's case was the one Patrick hadn't seen coming - the developing feelings part - and that was scary. Briefly he considered talking about that but then he decided now wasn't the time. Besides, Ryan was meeting Brendon in a bit and he'd rather tell Ryan all in one go instead of bits - he was certain he'd chicken out or have second thoughts.

Ryan nodded, looking like he understood what Patrick was going through. "Yea. It's not easy for people to accept a new person into the family just like that. Have you tried talking to them?"

"Yea. I did try a couple of times but --" Patrick bit his lip. "I'm not making any progress - just a bit with Pete's dad but Pete's siblings, nada. Especially Pete's brother."

"Yea, I've heard from Pete that they can be ...  _difficult_." Ryan spoke carefully. "But what about Pete?"

Patrick's heart did this slow flip in his chest it felt it was tugging all his blood vessels into the space underneath his ribcage all at once. He thought Ryan had found him out about how he felt for Pete. Was it that  _obvious_? But when he looked at Ryan, he saw no traces of accusation for Patrick's illicit feelings. He inhaled, carefully considering his next words.

"He's ... alright, I guess?" Patrick began. "I can tell he's doing his best to play the big brother role but sometimes he's kinda extra about it." He said, thinking of times when Pete would be a tad too overbearing that he wasn't fun to be around with.

"Pete's  _all_  about being extra." Ryan said with a laugh, not of contempt but with amusement. "But that's one of his quirks, what makes Pete  _Pete_."

"Yea." Patrick agreed. At the same time he also thought about all other things that made Pete the person he knew. The way the sides of his eyes would crinkle whenever he laughed, how Pete had the craziest food ideas, the little crooked smile he'd wear when he was in a good mood and so many more. It startled Patrick when he was aware he was of all the little details of Pete in such a short span of time - hadn't he known Pete as a person that way for nearly two months ago?

"You're Pete's best friend, right?" Patrick asked out of nowhere.

Ryan gave him a measured look before he pursed his lips. "I'd say yes but I'm not sure if Pete sees me that way." Patrick felt his chest tighten from an unwanted assumption. "I mean we are close but I don't think we'd have ended up here in our friendship if he didn't want to change." Ryan said. He fiddled with his bracelet. "He hit a rough patch back then and wanted to take a step away from stuff."

"He mentioned that."

The brunet raised his eyebrows. "He did?" Ryan asked. When Patrick nodded, a small smile tugged Ryan's lips upwards. "That's good."

"Not to be rude but ..." Patrick hesitated. "How do you know about Pete?"

"I was a student peer counselor for my year." Ryan explained. "And I was trying to find my phone from the counseling room because the teacher kinda confiscated it. Anyway, I met Pete there - or  _Pete_  met  _me_  there when he was coming into the room. I thought I did something wrong and I was so scared because back then Pete used to hang out with the troublesome students - they hated me a lot - but it turned out he wanted to talk.

"Now I had no experience whatsoever but Pete looked like he needed to talk. I could tell because he looked  _awful_. You can't  _ever_  just walk away from a person who needs help. He didn't want advice though; he only wanted someone to listen. I didn't meet Pete Wentz that day. I met a broken boy with a broken heart from a broken family." Ryan faced Patrick.

The strawberry blond saw the expression on Ryan's face. Even though he didn't know the brunet boy well, he could tell from the way Ryan was the kind of person who felt other's pain like it were his own. His heart squeezed with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak but what words could be spoken? So he closed his mouth.

"I care about Pete a lot." Ryan admitted. "Even though he can be a handful sometimes, I only want him to be happy. Nobody deserves to go through what he did." His eyelashes veiled his eyes before his gaze raised to look at Patrick. "You make him happy, y'know. I can see it from the way he talks about you." He said abruptly.

The strawberry blond stared, wide-eyed, at Ryan incredulously. He felt his face burn up and suddenly it was difficult to hold the boy's gaze any longer. "Oh." He could only say lamely in that monosyllabic response. " _Oh_."

Ryan giggled. "Look out for him, will ya?"

Patrick nodded though he was flummoxed. Ryan gave him a pat on the knee and a supportive smile before he got off the bleachers to meet up with a boy who ran up to him and tackled him with a huge hug.

Patrick stared after Ryan in contemplation.


	32. 3.0

There was a swimming pool at the large backyard of the Stump mansion. It came with heaters that were switched on during cold weather to prevent the user from freezing while they swam in it. It was a Saturday afternoon, the air was starting to growing chilly with the incoming arrival of fall.

Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky as Patrick floated on his back in the pool. He'd been in there for the past forty minutes, doing nothing but thinking about nothing but tonight's event.

Patricia had returned two days ago and had discussed matters with Lewis before they agreed to have dinner at the Stump mansion today. It was on such short notice too when they informed their children - yesterday, in fact, that Patricia had told her son about it.

Not that Patrick was against the whole thing but it was just that being told at the last minute made him feel very anxious.

Was this a formal dinner or not? Would wearing a regular t-shirt and jeans be acceptable or should he wear something else? What was he supposed to expect? What was he to talk about and how should he answer questions when asked?

Patrick made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and submerged backwards, doing a flip underwater before surfacing. Blinking the water out of his eyes and pushing back the wet strands of strawberry blond hair, he remained otherwise stationary in the pool.

"Are you enjoying your swim, sir?" Patrick was snapped out of his daze to find Joe regarding him from the edge of the pool.

"I've been in here for too long." Patrick mumbled, raising his hands so he could see them; his fingertips were pruny-looking. He began to swim towards the steps and pulled himself out of the pool. Water ran down his body in rivulets, splashing onto the warm concrete beneath his feet while he stood up. Pushing back the wet strands of his hair away from his face, Patrick blinked the water out of his eyes.

Joe handed the boy a towel. "Dinner is in two more hours, sir."

Patrick wrapped it around himself so it hung around his frame like cloak. He did nothing to dry himself. "I didn't realize time passed that fast." He said softly, looking at at his butler. His next question made him feel silly about the notion of asking Joe. "Any suggestions on what I should wear?"

Joe arched his eyebrows but said nothing at first. He knew Patrick to be the person who wouldn't fret himself over something as simple as dinner as Patrick always knew what to wear for the occasion. But he noticed the tiny indications of stress in Patrick's behavior and figured it had something to do with his soon-to-be stepfamily.

"Well ..." Joe trailed off, collecting the wet towel from Patrick after the strawberry blond had dried himself off. "I wouldn't worry too much about it but I do believe smart casual should do the trick."

"Smart casual's a thing?" Patrick frowned as the two of them headed to the patio. "I had no idea."

Joe let out a soft chuckle. "Yes it is."

"Huh." Patrick frowned. "I thought it was one of those weird but nonexistent dress code combos." He mused.

"It's a thing." Joe reaffirmed. "Although I could help you select an outfit if you'd like."

As Patrick had never heard of smart-casual and couldn't picture what to wear, he agreed to let Joe help out.

*

Patrick sat on his bed, clad in a fluffy white bathrobe. His damp hair was drying in the air, sticking up in random points. He was watching Joe, who was selecting clothes from the closet, at the other end of the room.

Patrick had called his butler a few minutes ago and now Joe had already narrowed down his selections to at least three options that he thought was most suited to Patrick's style.

"Here you go, sir." Joe laid out the clothes on the mattress as Patrick craned his head to take a better look. "I believe these will be appropriate for dinner tonight."

"Thank you, Joe." Patrick said, dismissing his butler as he rose from being perched on his bed. "I'll let you know if I need anything else." He added.

Joe inclined his head respectfully and left Patrick to his own devices. Once the door clicked shut after he exited the room, the strawberry blond boy let out a sigh. Pushing his fingers through his drying hair, Patrick went round the bed and looked at the clothes.

The first choice was a blue, half-bleached shirt that was short-sleeved. The second one was a dark red cardigan that was to be worn over a navy t-shirt. The last one was a simple white dress shirt and a black sweater.

These could be matched with a pair of dark jeans Joe had left folded beside the first outfit.

Patrick divested himself of his robe and put on the jeans. They fitted snugly around his legs, revealing the shape of his calves and his thighs. Once he secured his zip and buttoned it, Patrick went back to the shirt options. Inwardly, he decided Joe was too good at this job because now Patrick had no idea which to choose.

The boy had to try each on before he settled on choosing the last option. Standing in front of the mirror, Patrick pulled the sweater over his body after buttoning the white shirt, and stepped back to have a look at himself.

A pale-faced boy with strawberry blond hair and wide blue eyes stared back at him from the reflection. Patrick bit on his lips in efforts to bring color to them while he pushed the sleeves of his sweaters halfway up his forearms. After smoothing down the creases, Patrick still felt something was missing from his look but didn't know what.

At the same time, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Patrick took it out and checked, finding notifications of texts from Pete on the screen.

His heart clenched. Not that he was avoiding Pete completely but Patrick felt the need to separate himself from the older boy just for awhile until he could at least gather his thoughts.

 _Are you ready for dinner yet? Dad just told me to get ready and I just grabbed whatever I could find in my closet. What do you think, though?_  Pete's text read, which had a picture of Pete taking a mirror selfie. Patrick noticed that his dark fringe now sported a red streak in it and that Pete had chosen to dress in black from head to toe, right from his sweater down to his socks.

Patrick couldn't help but smile and shake his head. He typed back a response that wasn't necessarily true, which read  _Yes I am ready. You look good, don't worry_. Then he hit send.

 _Thanks!_  Pete's reply read. Then a new message was delivered.  _So ... what are you wearing for tonight?_

Patrick bit his lip, glancing at his reflection. Now he was embarrassed because he hadn't picked his outfit by himself.  _You'll see._  He typed and hit send before placing his phone face-down on the nightstand. It vibrated a few times, no doubt the older boy was pestering him for a picture before it stopped.

Putting the clothes back into the closet, Patrick sat down on his bed and stared around his room. He still had time to kill before dinner but he had no idea what he should do.

He could clean up his room but it was already tidy to begin with. He could also do his homework, except he'd already finished them the night before and handed them over to the teachers. He thought of going downstairs to the music room to play the piano when something else occurred to him.

Getting up from his bed, Patrick went to his bookshelf and squatted to retrieve the box where his unsorted Polaroids were kept. Walking towards his desk, he pushed an open textbook away to make space before setting the box on the desk. He opened the lid and took out the contents.

Patrick hadn't had a chance to sort out the photographs recently. He spread them out on the table and saw a mix of the ones he'd taken nearly two months ago and the ones that were taken during his stay with Wentz family, which was last week.

The oldest one, he remembered, was the random picture of a potted plant from the lobby in the country club. Using it as a guide, he sifted through the Polaroids for those that were taken on the same date to the best of his memory. There were one or two that were sceneries but he managed to find the selfie Pete had taken with Patrick. He remembered exactly how it went, with Pete bombarding him with questions until he caught Patrick by surprise by wrapping his arm around him and snapping the shot right away.

Patrick chuckled, amused by how shocked he looked and placed it to one side. Then, he sifted around until he found the pictures of Lewis. His mouth went dry as he collected them all and checked through each one.

Patrick recalled how, at that time, he had that 'brilliant' idea to take candid photographs of Lewis in the dressing room so he could take them back and compare them with pictures of his father. He was embarrassed of how shallow-minded he'd been, thinking Patricia loved Lewis simply because of his looks. And he felt guilty because he'd been so cynical of Lewis back then, viewing him as an enemy.

Patrick shook his head, making a mental note to get rid of those pictures when he heard a knock on his door. Startled, he shoved those pictures of Lewis into his textbook and shut it quickly before turning around just in time to see his mother peering in to the room. His heart was pounding with fear, hoping she hadn't caught him red-handed.

Forcing a smile on his face, Patrick rose from his chair. "Hey, Mom."

Patricia was dressed in a cream-colored dress and had her hair curled. She was also wearing bright red lipstick, the kind she saved for special occasions. "Hello, dear." She greeted her son, entering the room. "Are you ready for dinner yet?"

Patrick's nape was sweating. "Um, yea. I guess." He shrugged and was annoyed that he was doing so stiffly. Pursing his lips, he stuffed his hands down his pockets and asked, "Is there something you needed?"

Patricia paused as she sat on Patrick's bed. "I just wanted to have a talk with you." She said in a soft voice.

The boy felt his chest constrict with apprehension. Surely, she hadn't found out about the photographs by telepathy? Or maybe she found out about Patrick's illicit feelings for Pete. Patrick shifted from foot to foot, pulse hammering in his ears. "What is it?" His voice was uneven.

Patricia gestured for him to sit beside her. Feeling his breaths shortening with worry, Patrick forced himself to inhale deeply and seated himself next to his mother. He didn't dare to look at her directly, in case he'd confirm his worst suspicions too soon.

"Patrick." His mother had reached for his hand, enclosing it over hers. "I know I haven't really talked to you about this before but I want you to understand this." She began slowly. "I know you might ... be a bit against me remarrying but I want you to know that while I love Lewis, he won't replace ever David in my heart. And I'm not marrying him because I think you need a new father figure in your life. Lewis knows that as well. Also, I want you to understand that all the efforts Lewis is taking to get to know you better doesn't mean he's trying to make you forget about your father."

"Mom, I know." Patrick said. He'd already given this some thought and had come to terms with reality. "And I understand."

The corners of Patricia's mouth turned upwards in the slightest. "Lewis has been telling me as well that you and Pete get along very well and are close."

Patrick's heart stopped beating in just that moment. His eyes went up to his mother's. "Um." He bit his lip. "Yea, we are."

Patricia nodded. "That's good, honey. What about Andrew and Hilary?"

"I'm still trying to get to know them better." Patrick hated that he was lying to cover up for them. They hadn't expressed any interest in socializing with him, most notably in Andrew, but a part of Patrick was afraid his mother might accuse him of favoritism or that he was reluctant to be amiable to Pete's siblings. He didn't want her to think he was doing a poor job of associating with the others. "But I'm sure I'm making progress." He threw in another lie to seal the deal.

Patricia beamed at her son, believing his lies which made him all the more guilty inside. "Well, I hope all four of you will get along better sooner." She said. "Now, let's go downstairs and wait for them, yea?"

The forgotten ball of anxiety that had resided in Patrick's abdomen began to tighten again, reminding the boy of its existence. Forcing a smile, he nodded. "Sure."


	33. 3.1

Patrick's palms were sweaty. He had to keep wiping them on his jeans to get rid of the clammy feeling but they refused to dry. He tried to distract himself from anything but the anxiety twisting his insides into knots - detachedly, he wondered how he was going to work up the appetite to eat later.

Pete had texted him five minutes ago that they'd be arriving shortly, with a picture of the road he and his family were travelling on to prove it. Patrick had recognized it and knew it wasn't too far from his place so he was on edge.

He and his mother were in the parlor while Joe awaited for the arrival of the Wentz family in the foyer. Patrick was seated on the sofa facing the doorway, occasionally glancing up from picking away at the throw pillow to listen for any signs of movement outside.

Patricia was seated at the armchair by the fireplace, humming under her breath as she played Scrabble on her phone. Unlike her son, she did not show any signs of anxiousness for her fiancé and seemed rather relaxed about the whole dinner thing. Either she was really good at setting an example for Patrick or that she knew this was no matter to be fretting over.

Patrick suspected it was the latter.

The strawberry blond drew a deep breath in attempts to put himself at ease - it didn't really help, not really - and checked his wristwatch, which used to belong to his father. It had a simple design; a black leather strap and matching silver lug and case. Patrick had once asked why David would rather wear this than a Rolex and his father's answer was that this watch used to belong to his grandfather.

So it was kinda like Patrick keeping the legacy although now all he saw was the faint reflection of his pale face on the surface of the watch case. Biting his lip, he rested back on the sofa and took out his phone.

 _Where are you now?_  Patrick typed.

The moment he hit the send button was when he heard the doorbell ring. His heart skipped a beat as he rose from the sofa. Patricia looked up at him, mistaking his sudden movement for excitement to meet their guests. Wide-eyed and nervous, Patrick had only taken a step the foyer when he heard the front door open, followed by Joe's voice greeting the Wentz family.

Suddenly, Patrick's mouth went dry as if it had been filled with sawdust. There was the weightless sensation in his head and that every movement he made felt like he was going on autopilot. And then, as if from a distance, he heard voices that belonged to the members of the Wentz family.

Patrick was just a few feet away from the doorway leading to foyer when Lewis came into view followed by his children. Patrick knew his brain had gone on autopilot because all he remembered in bits and pieces were greeting the family with his mother and shaking hands with Lewis and his children - although he knew Andrew gave him a withering look the moment he extended his hand.

It was only when Patrick heard Pete's voice did full control of himself snapped back.

"Patrick, you look great!" Pete complimented with that lopsided grin that made the younger boy's heart flutter.

He looked exactly the same as the selfie he'd taken earlier except for one thing, which was that fedora that was perched on his head. If Pete hadn't dyed that red streak in his fringe, the uniform shade of black of the clothes he wore would've blended together.

"Thanks. You look good too." A smile formed effortlessly on Patrick's lips. "Is that what I think it is?" He pointed at Pete's head.

"Fedora." Pete confirmed before taking it off. "Here." Without even waiting for Patrick's consent, he plopped it onto the younger boy's head with a smirk.

Patrick made some noise of confusion at the back of his throat but immediately straightened the fedora on his head with a frown. "What do you think you're --"

"Aww, you look so fu -  _freaking_  cute." Pete corrected himself hastily, glancing at the adults who were conversing at the other side of the parlor. He turned to Patrick. "Gosh, I could just squish you."

Patrick's cheeks began to burn. "Um, okay?" His voice had gone up an octave. Clearing his throat, he bit his lip and regarded Pete with a faint smile before facing Andrew and Hilary who were standing a little away from the two. Remembering that he had to keep up the act of pretending to be amiable with them, Patrick smiled at them but his smile was not returned.

Andrew simply rolled his eyes. "It looks ridiculous on you." He told Patrick, referring to the hat.

Hilary rolled her eyes at her brother and scowled. "Can you show us where Patrick asked for your opinion? Lay off, Andrew. Everyone's here to enjoy dinner, not to witness you pissing over everything." All three boys stared at her incredulously as though this was the first time they heard her talk. Hilary was unfazed by the attention, meeting each of their gazes defiantly.

Andrew's mouth had dropped open before he closed it. An angry spark lit behind his eyes. "Whatever."

Pete was now regarding Hilary with amusement. "Sister dear, have I  _ever_  told you you're my favorite sibling --"

"Save it." Hilary pushed a hand into Pete's face, leaving the parlor with Patricia and Lewis. They hadn't noticed the adults leaving the room once Joe had returned to announce that the preparations for dinner have been made. They had been too caught up in the drama Andrew was causing.

The eldest of the Wentz siblings pushed past Pete and Patrick with an annoyed grunt. Patrick glared at his back. "Does he  _have_  to ruin the mood for everything?"

"Not really. It won't work if you don't care about him." Pete shrugged. "But easier said than done, I suppose." Both boys were walking side by side down the hallway leading up to the dining room, close enough that their fingers would brush if either of them tried reaching the other.

Patrick's heartbeat was loud in his ears, which drowned out the sounds of footsteps and conversation before them. He glanced sideways at Pete, biting his lip. There was an insistent whispering thought floating at the back of his head. He dropped his gaze to the ground and slowed his pace. "Uh, listen, Pete." He touched Pete's shoulder.

The older boy turned to look at him. "Yea, what's up?" He asked.

"There's something I need to get from my room." Patrick told Pete. "I'll join everyone at the table in a bit."

A small crease formed on Pete's brow. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on but Patrick was already turning towards the direction of the stairs. The dark-haired boy stared after him curiously before he followed the rest of the family.

*

Patrick stood hidden in the shadows of the corridor as he watched the two families at the table. A part of him found it curious how the dispositions of Andrew and Hilary had changed. They were more open and their smiles were wide as they spoke with the adults. Patrick's eyes traveled along the table, resting his gaze on each Wentz family member it landed on Pete, who was smiling a small crooked grin.

His chest constricted.

Patrick remembered the way that little expression of Pete's would set off a million sparks to fly in his stomach, causing his heart to flutter.

He drew a breath, stepping back from the view - not that they had seen him; they were too busy talking to have noticed. His heart was pounding hard from the anxiety he had been holding for the whole day. His hands tightened on his father's Polaroid camera.

He raised the it to his right eye, shutting the left one as he focused on Pete. Pressing the button, a snap went off, followed by the sound of a photograph being developed. He froze, biting his lip as he checked whether any of the families were notified of his presence.

They were carrying on with their conversations, not giving a single indication that they had heard him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he took the photograph, shook it a bit and had a look at it. His heart fluttered at how perfect it turned out - it captured Pete in mid-laugh. A smile played on his lips, an expression that reflected the warmth he felt inside his chest before it was replaced with a cold sensation that caused the smile to evaporate like water.

The cold turned into a dull ache, reminding him of how his feelings for a certain someone present at the table tonight could never be his. How that certain someone, while desired would forever remain as distant and unreachable as the stars he had seen the other night.

The strawberry slipped away up the stairs to his room where he felt the ever-tightening knot in his chest threatened to suffocate him.

*

"There you are." Patricia's eyes followed her son as he entered the dining room. "We were just wondering where you were." She said.

It wasn't true because by the time Patrick had rushed back downstairs, they had been talking about how Patrick loved photography. Nevertheless, he made no comment about it. He joined to sit at the table beside her. "Sorry. I forgot something."

Opposite where Patrick sat, Pete's eyebrows furrowed slightly when he looked at the younger boy. "What happened to your fedora?" He questioned, earning an annoyed glare from Andrew.

 _Your, not my_. Patrick couldn't help but think.

"Whose fedora?" Patricia asked.

"It was Pete's." It wasn't Patrick who answered but Hilary who did. "But he gave it to Patrick."

Patricia's eyebrows arched as a faint smile of amusement rested on her lips. "Well, that's very nice of you, Pete." She said, causing the dark-haired boy across Patrick to blush.

"I just thought it'd look cute on Patrick." There was a certain shyness in his tone that made Patrick look at him; the strawberry blond noted that this was uncharacteristic of Pete to speak in that manner. Then Pete raised his gaze, meeting Patrick's with that crooked grin.

Patrick's heart fluttered weightlessly and he found himself smiling back before glancing away. He felt breathless.

Joe and the kitchenstaff entered the dining room once the conversation ceased.

"Tonight is a five course meal prepared by our chef Hayley Williams." Joe announced, gesturing a bright haired woman beside him. "We shall begin serving the appetizer, Yellow Tomato Gazpacho, in a moment."

Patrick's appetizer was placed before him shortly after Joe had made the announcement. He was amused to note that it was indeed yellow, unlike the usual color which was red. The taste of the dish was perfectly balanced, not too salty and not too sweet and there was an aftertaste of cilantro in his mouth.

The start of dinner went on without a hitch and Patrick was relieved that even Andrew was acting civilly for the sake of everyone. It was by the time they reached the main course - Mushroom Ragout Pappardelle - when there was a steady stream of conversation going on at the table.

Patrick was listening to Hilary talk about the after-school clubs she was involved him when he felt something tap his foot from under the table. With a frown, he leaned back slightly to see the tip of Pete's foot touching his. A half-suppressed grin found its way on Patrick's mouth as he raised his gaze to the older boy, who wiggled his fingers in greeting at Patrick.

There were one or two questions from the adults at the table that required Patrick's attention but otherwise the full effect of the conversation was lost on him as him and Pete alternated between grinning at each other like they shared a secret nobody else knew and engaging some sort of game beneath the table that involved tapping each other's feet.

*

Once dinner was over, Patricia and Lewis insisted on discussing matters at the table so they dismissed the children from the room. Patrick showed the Wentz siblings to David's study-cum-library to wait.

Andrew stayed at the corner furthest away from everyone, wearing a displeased expression, while Hilary browsed the shelves for something interesting to read; Pete's siblings didn't seem interested in playing Go Fish at David's large oak desk with him and Patrick. Everyone was, for the most part, minding their own business when Pete excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Patrick offered to show the older boy where it was so he could avoid being alone with Hilary and Andrew but he was turned down by Pete. He could feel his heart slamming hard against his ribcage as he watched Pete leave the room. Every step away from the strawberry blond towards the door felt almost like a taunt to Patrick for him to disregard what Pete had said and follow him anyway. But he remained in his seat, stomach knotting itself with growing anxiety.

It was when the door clicked shut did the action begin.

Andrew, who had been relatively silent in his corner, began to get up and walk over to the desk. Even though Patrick tried not to show it, alarm was racing in his veins while he forced his features to remain calm as he sorted the cards. The harsh sound of Andrew dragging up the chair so he could sit across Patrick made the younger boy glance up.

Andrew's face was filled with contempt. "I was watching you and Pete at dinner." He sneered, narrowing his eyes.

There was a sudden skip in Patrick's pulse from fear. He felt blood rush away from his face but, pretending to not to allow that revelation affect him, met Andrew's eyes. He set the deck of cards on the desk. "Is that because the chef didn't prepare the food to your liking and you had to resort to staring at us because we looked appetizing?" There a subtle tremble in his voice but the strawberry blond's gaze was level.

Andrew's eyebrows arched. A muscle near his mouth twitched with impatience but he remained, otherwise, impassive. He reached for the deck and began to shuffle, staring at Patrick with a derisive smile. "Let's play poker, shall we? Texas Hold'Em."

Patrick stiffened. He didn't like the way the older boy's words had ended with Andrew smirking like he was up to something. He wanted to decline the offer but Andrew was already dealing two cards for each of them; he didn't even wait for Patrick's answer. With a sigh, he picked up his cards and looked at them. A crease found its way on his features.

"I'm really sorry but I don't know how to play." He said.

Andrew was placing three cards on the table - community cards. "Oh?" He sounded amused. "But that's such a shame. I thought Pete would've taught you by now."

Patrick frowned. "He didn't. And still, I don't want to play."

"But you've touched your cards."

The younger boy exhaled in annoyance. "Look, why would you assume your brother would teach me how to play poker?" He demanded with a scowl.

Patrick's exasperation hit the jackpot for Andrew. He grinned with satisfaction, finally managing to prod a sore spot. He regarded Patrick, noting the way the boy was regarding him with a defiant light in his eyes and stiff posture. "Your brother?" He echoed, chuckling. "Funny, because isn't he your brother as well?"

Patrick's mouth went dry. His hands had started to shake so he set his cards down quickly so Andrew wouldn't see them quiver. There was that distinct feeling of being trapped in a figurative corner lingering at the back of his head. Patrick's lips folded into a thin line.

Andrew was still smiling that venomous smile of his and then Patrick realized what he was on to.

"Pete and I don't share the same blood." The strawberry blond tried to say as firmly as he could but the effect was lost when his voice went uneven at the end.

"Haven't you heard that family ties are not always defined by blood?" Andrew pointed out. "Pete is your brother as much as he is mine --"

"But my mother isn't married to Lewis." Patrick argued.

"Yet, they insist all of us to start getting along like a family because marriage is on the cards - so to speak." Andrew grinned at his own wordplay, waving his dealt hand like a sick kind of joke. "You understand what I'm trying to say, don't you?"

Patrick remained silent.

"Silence means yes." Andrew's grin was wolflike. "So, on the assumption that you have agreed with me, why is it that you didn't you call Pete your brother?"

Patrick's blood was roaring in his ears. He wanted to defend himself that he did see Pete as his brother, and that it was a slip of tongue when he spoke earlier. But he knew, deep down, that that was a lie. It was the one lie he allowed to tell himself and now it had caught up to him.  He looked away from Andrew's to his clenched hands resting on his lap. There was a sting, one he was once familiar with, burning at the back of his eyes.

He was shocked that Andrew had found him out. He was frustrated that he couldn't lie his way out. He was disappointed at his inability to defend himself. But most of all, he was scared that Andrew might rat him out.

With all these emotions, it was hard push them down because these were the fears that had grown and whispered at the back of his mind; now they have manifested in reality.

"I've seen the way you look at Pete." Andrew's voice dripped with disgust. "And I know  _that_  look."

Patrick caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced to see to who it was. His heart leapt with the hope that it might be Pete coming inside - even though he didn't hear the door open - and save him. But it was Hilary.

Her expression was hard. And she was scowling in Andrew's direction.

The youngest of the Wentz sibling had had her earphones plugged in so she must not have heard a good portion of the conversation but judging from the how white her face had gone, Patrick assumed she heard the most recent part. She was getting up from the beanbag she was sitting earlier and walking over. "Andrew --"

Her brother gave her a pointed glare and she faltered - there was a flicker of fear in her gaze. Then Andrew faced Patrick. "Looking at you makes me want to spit blood on your face. I thought I'd be able to tolerate a little rat like you but the moment you started hanging out with Pete more was the moment I knew you were fucked. You've become just like him. One of those sick bastards who have unnatural feelings for --"

"That's enough!" Hilary's voice had gone shrill. Though she had gone pale, a livid color was tinting her cheeks. "You can't just pick on him like that because --"

"Okay why is Hilary shouting?" Hilary's, Andrew's and Patrick's heads swiveled to the door where Pete was standing with a frown of bewilderment and worry.

Hilary crossed her arms and glared at Andrew, who smirked at Pete. "I wasn't shouting."

"Um, your voice goes all squeaky when you --" Pete broke off once he looked over at Patrick. The confused expression he had worn earlier wiped away immediately. "Patrick, what's wrong?"

Andrew raised his cards casually but he was really obscuring the grin of satisfaction from watching the events unfold before his eyes.

Patrick shook his head. "Nothing's wrong." When Pete continued to stare him down, the dull ache in his chest tightened. Suddenly he wanted to tell Pete everything that Andrew had told him. The words were fighting against his will to stay silent. He feared that if he did tell Pete what had happened, he'd risk revealing his feelings to Pete. And he'd risk losing whatever mutual trust or respect Pete had for him.

Patrick inhaled sharply and he heard, as if from a distance, himself snapping. "Stop looking at me like that. I said ' _nothing's wrong_!'"

Without waiting for any response whatsoever, Patrick got up from his seat and headed for the door. He shouldered past Pete, not registering the sting on his arm from pushing the boy.

Patrick just wanted to go back to his room.


	34. 3.2

"Patrick?"

"Just leave me alone!" Patrick whirled around to face Pete, who was following him up the stairs. The strawberry blond was clenching his shaking fists, willing his voice to remain steady. "I don't need you to baby after me." His cheeks had broken out splotchy patches of red.

Pete stared up at him, lips pressed together and a slight crease on his brow. He was pale, and his amber eyes reflected concern. He didn't say anything at first, before he drew his gaze away from Patrick's to the ground. "I'm just worried for you."

"Well  _don't_  be." Patrick sounded cold; anyone would have the impression that he didn't care but he did and it hurt to put Pete down this way. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with my own feelings."

There was a spark of defiance in Pete's expression. It was an indication that he didn't believe what Patrick said and that he was prepared to disregard the younger boy's claim. "What did Andrew say to you?" The dark-haired boy spoke calmly.

Patrick hesitated; he knew that look Pete was giving him and he did not intend to give in so easily. He shook his head. "It's nothing that deserves your concern." He answered, uninflected.

A muscle on Pete's face twitched with impatience. Despite Patrick dismissing him the second time, he did not want to let this slip so easily. He knew something had been bugging Patrick recently and though he didn't press the younger boy for it, he was watchful. His grip the balustrade of the stairs tightened. "What bothers you will bother me as well. You're not an island, Patrick. And you don't have to face it by yourself."

 _You wouldn't understand_ , Patrick wanted to say. Had Pete known what the strawberry blond felt for him, would he still treat Patrick the same knowing that his soon-to-be stepbrother harbored feelings for him?

"Stop." Patrick said as his voice began to quaver. "Just stop."

"Stop what?"

" _This_." Patrick gestured, almost angrily. He could feel the backs of his eyes burning. "Stop trying to act like you're my brother or whatever!" He snapped.

Pete gave him an incredulous look but Patrick had seen the flash of hurt crossing his features. "Patrick --" He tried to say.

"I mean I appreciate that you're trying but do you even see me  _that_  way? Like some kid who needs to be babied or looked after all the time? Or that every time you think something is off about me that you have to know about it?"

"I don't --"

"Seriously, Pete!" Patrick could hear his own voice rising as all his repressed frustrations expanded in his chest. "Do you even know the meaning of giving someone space? There's a fine line between offering help to someone and being plain nosy." Every word he spat out, there was this satisfying burn in his veins and letting all the negativity explode out of him.

Pete was staring at him like he didn't recognize Patrick anymore; he was pale and wore a stricken expression. Yet, even with the younger boy's outburst, he didn't draw his gaze away from him. But after a few moments of silence ensued, his lashes veiled those dark amber eyes. He was chewing the insides of his mouth. "Fine. I'll leave you alone." He said. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll stop bothering you."

Patrick turned his face away from Pete, pressing his lips tightly together. "If Mom or Lewis asks where I am, tell them I'm not feeling well and I decided to go to bed early." Without waiting for a reply, Patrick swiveled on his heel and went to his room.

Pete stared after him, even long after the strawberry blond had disappeared into his room. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before descending from the stairs.

*

The aftermath of Patrick's outburst weighed heavily on the boy's chest. Once he had shut the door behind him, he felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He had squeezed them shut and willed himself not to cry, unsuccessfully. He had sunk to the floor, hugging his knees to his body and letting the guilt of everything crush his heart.

Patrick wasn't sure how long he had sat in that position but by the time he got up, feeling numb all over, his extremities prickled with pins-and-needles and he was unsteady on his clumsy feet. Having had time to reflect on his earlier actions, he was ashamed at how he had lost control of his self-restraint and lashed out on Pete for trying to help. Though he knew the older boy had the best intentions but didn't know how to act on them, Patrick couldn't help but blame himself.

If only he'd been better at hiding his feelings or pretending that he didn't care at all, things wouldn't have done a complete one-eighty turn tonight.

There had been a few times when Patrick heard knocks on the door but he ignored it and remained silent so that whoever it was behind the door would think he was fast asleep.

It was about half past midnight now. The boy's bedroom would've been very dark had it not been for Patrick drawn the curtains back so he could sit at the windowsill and see the night sky.

The stars didn't look as bright as they had the night when him and Pete had snuck out to watch a meteor shower. The moon was visible as well, appearing like an white half-lidded eye in the sky. It made for a lonely atmosphere but it fitted Patrick's current mood anyway.

His phone was sitting at his feet with its screen displaying his last few text messages with Pete. He had tried many times to type an apology but it didn't sound genuine as he read it in his mind. After deleting huge chunks of texts repeatedly, he gave up.

Music was playing softly from his compact stereo system - not the genre that grown on him because of Pete - but the kind of songs one would listen to when they went out for a long drive down deserted streets at this hour. The sort of songs he used to like and listen to with his friends before he got to know Pete better.

The track that was playing right now sounded familiar. He was terrible at remembering song names but he could always recall tunes or certain lyrics.

" _According to your heart / my place is not deliberate_." Patrick sang softly under his breath. " _Feeling of your arms / I don't wanna be your friend --_ " He broke off when the screen of his phone lit up. His heart leapt with hope and anxiousness that it might be a text from Pete, but felt it plunge when he saw that there was a message notification from an unknown number.

A frown creased his forehead as he unlocked his phone and checked his texts. There were already two more new messages by the time he clicked on the chat with the unknown number.

_Hey Patrick._

_This is Ryan, by the way._

_You_ _might be wondering why I'm texting you this late but please reply to me as soon as you see this._

Patrick began to type out a response when Ryan sent a new text.

_Sorry if I'm bothering you but I hope you're okay right now ):_

The strawberry blond's thumbs hovered uncertainly over the keyboard area of his phone screen. Patrick was still wearing a frown but it was that of confusion. He specifically recalled not giving his number to Pete's friend. He wondered when Ryan had gotten his number.

Not wanting to seem rude because he was leaving Ryan's message on  _Read_ , he clicked the call icon and held the phone to his ear. After a few rings, the boy who texted him picked up.

" _Hey, Patrick._ " Ryan said from the other side of the line. There was the faint sound of music playing in the background although it faded away." _How are you doing?_ " He asked.

" _I'm fine_." Patrick replied, willing himself to sound certain about how he felt and not give away anything in his tone. " _You?_ "

" _I'm doing good, thank you_." There was a pause. " _Sorry if I'm bothering you at this hour_  --"

"No, it's fine." Patrick insisted as he glanced out the window. Hesitation was preventing him from speaking his mind. Biting his lower lip, he faced away from the window and walked over to his bed. "Let me guess: Pete must've told you about earlier tonight."

" _You're not wrong_." Ryan said. " _But I'm not here to play the message man or whatever. I mean, Pete said you looked really distraught earlier and we all know he_ _isn_ _'t good at approaching someone --_ "

" _If you're texting me because Pete told you to --_ "

"I texted you not because Pete begged me to. I texted you because I wanted to." Ryan said. "Pete's not the only person who can get hurt."

Patrick was silent for a few heartbeats. "We don't even know each other that well." He pointed out; he couldn't help but feel wary around Ryan.

" _Ouch. You have a point, but I - Okay, I'm sorry if I'm giving you the wrong impression like I'm being nosy or stuff. I just wanted to lowkey let you know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here; even if we don't really talk each other, I'll listen to your worries and problems_.  _But I totally understand if you don't wanna share it_."

Patrick sighed, shutting his eyes. Shadows played on his features, sharpening his cheekbones and darkening his eyes. "Thanks, Ryan."

"No problemo."

"But it's really late now and --"

" _Oh, right. Yea. Sorry_." Patrick noticed Ryan had a tendency to apologize a lot, even if he hadn't done anything wrong or offended Patrick in any way. Ryan cleared his throat from the other end of the line. " _Anyway, good night. Hope you'll feel better in the morning_."

"Wait."

" _Yea?_ "

Patrick hesitated, rolling onto his side while his phone rested on his cheek. It was in that split-second moment he made his decision. It probably wasn't the most well measured decision and he was too tired at this point but he did want to get his feelings off his chest; he just hoped Ryan was one to keep secrets. "Can I meet you tomorrow? If it's not too much of a trouble."

" _O-oh, I --_ "

"I it won't take long. I do wanna talk about it but not over the phone. Bills, y'know?"

" _Sure thing. Pick a place and send me the address tomorrow. But for now, get some rest. Good night!_ "

"Good night."

*

Patrick sat by the spot near the window of the coffee shop he and Ryan had agreed to meet up the next day. He had ordered himself a cup of coffee just now but it was a bit too hot for him to drink so the cup sat on the table, steaming.

Ambient acoustic music played overhead, setting up a relaxed atmosphere while the sounds of the coffee machines percolating could be heard in the background. Only a few tables were occupied at this hour but Patrick was relieved there were less of the coffee shop patrons present. He'd hate it if any one of them were to listen in to what he was planning to talk to Ryan about.

About five minutes later, Patrick spotted a boy with a lanky stature he recognized walking down the street leading up to the coffee shop past the window. He drew himself up from the slouched position he was sitting in and looked at the door. In a moment, the boy entered the coffee shop, peering around until he spotted Patrick near the back of the place.

Ryan approached the table and took the seat across Patrick. "Hello." He smiled politely at the younger boy.

"Hi." Patrick responded.

Ryan glanced at Patrick's cup of coffee then at him. He cleared his throat in attempts to break the silence between them. "Is the coffee good here?" The brunet asked curiously though Patrick knew he was trying to ease the tension with his conversational tone.

"Mine's too hot to drink."

"Oh." Ryan nodded, tucking back stray strands of hair that had fallen across his face. He looked over his shoulder at the counter. "Hold on, let me grab something to eat." He excused himself from the table.

Patrick waited until Ryan had turned his back when he buried his hands in his face. He had rehearsed how he'd tell Ryan about his feelings about Pete and ask how to get rid of them but his mouth had refused to open to speak the words. Sighing in frustration, Patrick told himself inwardly that when Ryan came back, he'd spill. And if it helped, he'd pretend Ryan was a statue to make things easier for himself to talk.

There was the sound of footsteps drew closer and Patrick peeked through gaps of his fingers. Ryan had returned with a large slice of chocolate cake. The younger boy removed his hands from his face, peering at the cake while Ryan passed him a spoon.

"Here, have some." Ryan offered. "The staff told me it's really good." He added.

Patrick stared at the cake slice but had no appetite to eat it, even if it did look delicious. His gaze raised to meet Ryan's. "Ryan?"

"Yea?" The brunet boy raised his head attentively.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me."

Ryan smiled, a big and openhearted expression that warmed Patrick's heart. "No worries, really." He said.

Patrick pressed his lips together and willed himself to push past his hesitation and speak up. "Have you talked to Pete lately?" He heard his own voice catch at the end.

"Mhm." Ryan had started on the chocolate cake already. "Last night."

"Oh. How was he?"

Ryan paused, regarding Patrick carefully. There was an expression of sympathy and concern on his features. "He was ... really worried about you. He got into a heated argument with Andrew after dinner."

The knot of guilt residing in Patrick's chest tightened painfully. The back of his throat was hurting. "Oh." He hated that he gave a monosyllabic response which he thought made him sound as though he didn't care at all.

Ryan nodded, slowly. "Y'know, Pete's trying his best."

"His best for what?" Patrick hadn't intended to but his tone had came out sounding cynical.

"A lot of things. It's hard to explain, really. I'm not good with words when it comes from my mouth so I'm sorry if what I say sounds jumbled and contradictory."

"Try."

Ryan exhaled softly, studying Patrick's features with those soft brown eyes of his. "Pete had a troubled family life from the start. After his mom passed away, he was really distraught and ashamed of himself. What I'm about to say is something he made me promise not to tell anyone but since you're gonna be his stepbrother soon, I believe you should know. But before that,  _swear_  that whatever I tell you won't get in the way between you and Pete." The boy's tone was firm.

Patrick bit his lip. He was worried but at the same time apprehensive. "I promise." Two words; he hoped he could carry the weight of them without being crushed the same way his secrets did.

Ryan nodded. "You know about how Pete's mother passed away?"

Patrick nodded. "He told me. The night --" His throat closed up as memories of watching the stars beside Pete flooded his mind. "Yea, he did."

"You know Pete blames himself, right?" Ryan asked and the younger boy nodded. "He tried to fix everything with his family after he bounced back from grieving for his mother. The problem is that he doesn't have much of a strong relationship with his siblings nor his father and he didn't really know what to do - even now he questions himself. If you pay close attention, Pete doesn't treat his siblings like how a normal person would but more like they're his acquaintances.

"It's not the best thing but at least Pete is trying. As for his father, Pete struggles with him the most because they hardly see each other on weekdays but they do spend time on weekends. But ever since Pete's father started dating your mother and when it was clear that their relationship was rock-steady, he saw an opportunity to redeem himself and that was you and your family. For him, it was a new start. He could finally stop feeling sorry for himself for - what he calls - failing as a son and as a brother."

"So I'm just a second chance?"

"He sees you more than that now but back then, yes. And since Pete didn't really know how or what to do, he was a bit forceful with how he should act and he didn't think about you'd feel."

"True." Patrick cringed at the thought of meeting Pete before the start of this academic year when he was always going after Patrick and trying to get him involved in hanging out with the rest of the Wentz family. "But he's gotten better ... kinda."

"Is that what you wanna talk about?" Ryan asked. "Because he said that you snapped at him for caring about you."

Patrick's face burned. "Well ... It's not that I'm ungrateful that he does - but I don't want to be cared that way."

"What way?"

Patrick did some sort of vague gesture, frustrated with his inability to find the right word. "Like I'm his younger brother." Taking Ryan's lack of response as an indication to explain what he meant, he drew a breath to pick up whatever courage he had left. "Because I have feelings for him."

Ryan sat up, eyes widening. "So like ...  _feelings_  feelings?" He asked, though that didn't quite make much sense.

"The kind that makes your heart twist and flutter." Patrick confirmed.

Ryan stared at him.

The silence from Ryan was making Patrick feel all the more embarrassed with himself. He pressed his lips together, willing himself not to take Ryan's lack of response too seriously but that was failing.

Finally, Ryan nodded. "You're conflicted between being who you know you're supposed to be and letting Pete know the truth, right?" He said in a careful tone.

Patrick wanted to break into tears because that was exactly how he felt. And he did. The backs of his eyes began to sting and then all the words he'd been holding back for the longest time were spilling out of his mouth.


	35. 3.3

Patrick took longer than usual to get ready for school when Monday rolled over. He'd been half-dreading, half-anticipating the beginning of a new week ever since the Wentz family had dinner at his place. As he checked his reflection to make sure his appearance and uniform conformed to his school's standards, he thought about yesterday at the coffee shop with Ryan.

He remembered pouring out everything he had been withholding since he became aware of his feelings for Pete. Ryan was a good listener and he was also good at comforting Patrick when the strawberry blond teared up afterwards. Though Ryan claimed he was no expert in this kind of matter, he did tell Patrick that it was not wrong to have develop an attachment for Pete.

"But wouldn't it be, I dunno, considered incest or something like that?" Patrick had questioned once he managed to calm himself down from crying.

Ryan had shaken his head. "You and Pete don't share the same blood."

Patrick had felt relieved that his fear had been a result of ignorance but a part of him was worried whether anyone else would be as misinformed as him. "Should I tell him about my feelings or not?"

"You don't have to do it right away. But if it'll ease your mind, then it's best to find the time when you feel that you're ready to let him know." Ryan had answered. "That, or maybe you could start small like write about what you want to let him know until you're comfortable enough to tell him."

As Patrick was on his way to school, he replayed this exchange with Ryan in his head over and over again. Frankly, he did want to tell Pete but the one thing he feared was the older boy's reaction. He hadn't spoken to Pete since he snapped at him so he knew it would be a bad time to spring a confession on him.

So instead of admitting his feelings to Pete, Patrick decided to speak with Hilary. He decided it'd be easier for him to approach her compared to her siblings - also, he needed to thank her for trying to stop Andrew from running his mouth the other day.

It was around lunch when Patrick managed to track Hilary's whereabouts after wandering around the school grounds.

The strawberry blond had always thought she was one for a crowd but was surprised to find her all by herself sitting at a bench under the tree by the quad. She was reading a worn-looking paperback novel which Patrick had identified immediately. "A Tale of Two Cities." He said. "By Charles Dickens."

Hilary barely gave him a glance. "Not my favorite book by him." She replied before folding the edge of the page she was reading and setting the book closed on her lap. The Youngblood Prep School had rules about dyeing hair but surprisingly Hilary hadn't been caught for sporting bright red streaks in her dark hair. She eyed Patrick up and down. "Look, I'm not in the mood to be bothered by the likes of you --"

"Can we talk?" Patrick cut in before he could lose his nerve.

"I don't know. Can we?" Hilary deadpanned.

Patrick wasn't swayed by her tactic of trying to make him leave. Instead, he leveled his gaze with hers and made sure to hold it steady. The two regarded each other for a few moments before Hilary gave in. She rolled her eyes and cocked her head to the side. "Park your ass." She told him, indicating that he sit beside her.

Patrick obliged. He could feel sweat beginning to form at his nape and the feeling of his mouth drying up. Ignoring the quickening pace of his pulse, he tried to break the ice by saying, "Thanks for standing up to Andrew the other day."

Hilary didn't say anything at first and was stared at Patrick. Her eyes were nearly the same shade as Pete's were but where his was a deep and rich shade of amber, hers had a lighter hue. "You should've stood up for yourself." She told him in a tone that sounded almost derisive. "You have to learn how to defend yourself."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about." Patrick said, ignoring the tiny sting he felt when Hilary spoke to him in that manner. "I just thought it'd break the ice."

Hilary sighed in exasperation. "Just cut the bullshit and tell me what you really want to talk about."

Patrick bit his lip. The courage he'd gathered last night till now was starting to slip from his mind's grasp, the voids now being filled with hesitation and doubt. There was a slight metallic tang on his tongue and he knew he had broken the fragile skin of his mouth. "Pete. I want to talk about your brother."

Hilary arched an eyebrow but said nothing - it was eerie how that expression of hers reminded him of Pete. "What about my brother?" She sounded wary.

The strawberry blond shrugged, though the words had begun fighting their way out past his throat. "Is he alright?" His voice was small.

"Well, last I checked, he had all his limbs attached and his mental health in place, so yea. What's the news?" Hilary asked.

"Is he upset?"

Hesitation flashed over Hilary's features. "Do you think he is?" She asked.

Patrick frowned. Here he being concerned for Pete and there was Hilary being uncooperative. Perhaps talking to her wasn't such a good idea. "I don't but I just want to make sure he isn't."

 _Because what I want to tell him requires his full attention and a clear mind_. He almost added.

"What makes you think he wouldn't be upset after you snapped at him?" Hilary asked.

Patrick bit his lip and remained silent. He had hoped Pete would shrug the whole thing off but now that he thought about it, Patrick hadn't given Pete any reason to let the whole thing go. Guilt clenched its fist around his heart. "I don't know." He glanced up at Hilary. "Other than Pete, I wanted to thank you standing up to Andrew when I didn't."

Hilary regarded the strawberry blond boy for a few moments, carefully making note of his expression before she spoke. "I don't condone what Andrew said to you. What he did wasn't right and it was very rude. Not to mention that he attacked you unprovoked." She explained. "But I can't help but wonder if what he said is true." She added.

Patrick's heart shrunk in his chest abruptly. He had the faintest idea of what she meant but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. "Wonder about what?"

"About way you look at Pete." Hilary's response had confirmed his suspicions. "And the way you act around him and him around you. And there's obvioisly more but I'm sure I don't have to list them out for you, right?"

The words Patrick had been rehearsing the night before on how he would admit his feelings for Pete were lost to the rush of anxiousness and fear in his veins. His mouth had gone dry and his tongue refused to shape words. So he raised his gaze to meet her questioning one, biting his lower lip. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and the fact that the look in Hilary's amber eyes was piercing through him.

Patrick drew a breath. "I have feelings for your brother." His voice was nearly inaudible over the background noise of the quad so he wasn't sure at first if Hilary would hear him right; maybe it'd be a good thing if she didn't, Patrick thought. However, the way the girl's eyebrows had arched in the slightest indicated that though she had suspected it all along the truth still surprised her.

Hilary didn't say anything for a few seconds, which felt like the longest time the strawberry blond had to wait for an answer, before she looked away from him. Her forehead was creased with a pensive frown.

There was an upwards spike in Patrick's anxiety levels. Worry was filling up fast in him, burdening his mind with flashes of worst-case scenarios and possible negative reactions. His throat was starting to feel closed-up and he was certain if her silence dragged out longer, he might lose his nerve and forget his composure.

Hilary exhaled, lashes veiling her eyes. "Huh." Her monosyllabic response both scared and relieved Patrick. She wasn't recoiling from the boy like he had a leper neither was any dramatic reaction evoked from her - this was the part he was conflicted about. Then she faced him, narrowing her eyes as though she was attempting to assess how serious he was.

When Hilary decided Patrick was most definitely not messing around, her lips folded on each other into a line. "Pete? My brother?" The boy decided she was more incredulous than she let on.

"How many brothers named Pete do you have?"

"Huh." She repeated her first response to Patrick's confession.

"Are you ... mad about it? Or disgusted that I'm attracted to your brother?" Patrick's voice was shaky with bewilderment. "Because if you are, please tell me. I really have to know." He added.

"Well ..." Hilary hesitated. "I'm not mad. And I'm not disgusted about the idea of a person liking another person of the same gender or sex like Andrew is because his fat head is stuck up his ass. But I can't process the bit about --" Her nose scrunched up. "Pete? Seriously?"

"Please don't ask me how it happened. If I had any control over what I wanted to feel, I wouldn't be this miserable." Patrick sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. A part of him was relieved that she wasn't upset about him being attracted to her brother but her hesitance on accepting the fact was preventing his anxiety on the matter from subsiding.

"Look, I swear I'm not judging." She spoke in a serious. "But why would you want to tell me this?"

Patrick tugged the cuffs of his shirtsleeves absentmindedly. "Because out of Pete's siblings, you were seemed to be the most approachable - well, not before but after you stood up to Andrew when I didn't --" He cleared his throat. "And you seem pretty chill and neutral now."

Hilary was silent so Patrick looked at her to make sure if she was still listening or not. She appeared she was but there was something about the way she was regarding him that made him feel uneasy.

The girl shook her head. "Just because I haven't said hurtful things to you like Andrew did doesn't mean I'm nicer than he is." She said. "You're really naive, don't you know that?"

Patrick simply stared at her, now feeling confused by the direction this conversation was heading.

"You're easily swayed by actions and words - or the way people act around you - but don't you try to take a moment to what are the ulterior motives the people you meet have?"

A frown appeared on the strawberry blond's forehead. "What?"

"Take me, for example. The reason why I avoid you I hardly talk to you back then is because I didn't like you at all. Yes, you heard that right. From the day we were properly introduced, I've always thought you were a goody-two shoes. I mean, who the fuck has perfect manners and can act so polite?

"After Mom passed away, I was the one that Dad really looked to. Like, I wasn't the one smoking weed and gambling or getting involved in silly problems like fights at school. I was the least problematic and at least my grades and my attitude wasn't going down the drain. That's why when you came along with the way you behaved around pissed me off so much. Because Dad sounded impressed by everything you were that I knew I could not be. That, and I never trusted people who can act so perfectly."

Patrick didn't know what to say after hearing what Hilary had to say. So he stared at her with those blue eyes of his that held confusion, sympathy and understanding of how she felt. "Do you and your siblings have like trust issues and weird ways of handling things?"

Hilary appeared annoyed that Patrick had said something that was correct about her. "If you've been brought up in the environment where I grew up in, where the man lied to his wife, who also covered up her husbands tracks to feed her children a false image of their father's goodness, you will pick up the tendency to see things a certain way and question a lot." She said stiffly.

Then the scowl on her face softened. "Anyway, back to the topic about you and Pete. I really can't help you. I don't know how to help you. And I don't know how to advise you to sort it out. But I wish you the best and I hope you'll be able to sort things out." When she was done speaking, there was this confused look on her face like she wasn't certain whether she had really said all the things she did to Patrick.

Hilary began to get up from the bench and walked away. However, after covering few feet away from Patrick she stopped. The girl looked over her shoulder to the strawberry blond. "Just to clear things up: I don't dislike you the way I used to. I'm sorry that I wasn't very nice to you back then because I let jealousy get in my way of accepting you."

Then after that did she really walk off, leaving Patrick staring after her.


	36. 3.4

It put Patrick at ease to know that Hilary was inclined to be less unpleasant to him, compared to back then. That, and she wasn't freaked out or disgusted that Patrick had an attachment for Pete - which brought him back to the issue itself.

There was no reason for Patrick to rush with confessing his feelings but he knew himself; if he waited longer, he might lose the nerve to speak with Pete and then his secret would have a higher probability of revealing itself in the most unwelcome way possible. No, he didn't want to risk it.

Patrick set himself a deadline and that was to tell Pete how he really felt about the older boy before the midnight tomorrow. To give himself some form of flexibility, he allowed himself to either confess to Pete in person or on text. The latter, he thought, wasn't the most ideal but should be saved for last in case some unfortunate stroke of luck prevented him from interacting face to face with Pete or if he chickened out.

With all that being planned out, Patrick hadn't paid much attention to the classes for the rest of the day. At the last lesson before dismissal which was Chemistry, Jon noticed that Patrick wasn't focusing on the subject and had to nudge the strawberry blond boy a couple of times to bring him back to the lecture the teacher was giving.  At the end of class, Jon brought the matter up with a worried tone. "Is everything okay?"

Patrick, who was busy putting away his belongings, frowned distractedly. "What?" He said. "Um, yea - kinda. Why?"

"Nah, just ..." Jon shrugged. "You seem distracted today." He stated his observation; he knew it was unlike of Patrick to be zoning out.

Patrick made no comment instead tried to steer clear of the topic by changing the subject of the conversation. "Where do you think, besides the back of the school or anywhere on campus, would be the best place to confess your feelings to someone ?" He asked.

Jon paused for a moment to think. "Well, that's a difficult question because I'm not into romantic shit or whatever --" He broke off with a wide-eyed look, putting two and two together. "Wait a sec, what are you up to?" He asked in a teasing tone. "Is there someone who's been on your mind?"

The way Jon was acting made Patrick feel uncomfortable. Under other circumstances, he would've shrugged it off but then he thought about how Jon would react if he told his friend about he had an attachment for Pete and pictured the worst. Making sure he kept a carefully neutral expression, Patrick raised his gaze to Jon's smirk and shrugged. "What made you think that?"

"Because of your question." Jon nudged the strawberry blond playfully

"For all you know, I could be writing a blog on relationship advice." Patrick mumbled, rolling his eyes. He picked up his bag before the two of them walked out of the lab and into the hallway, maneuvering around students who had been dismissed from their respective classes. "Besides, do you see me teasing you when you talk about anything that can be directly linked to dating?" Patrick asked.

"Sheesh, I was only messing around." Jon huffed in exasperation but knew his best friend had a point that he couldn't dispute right away. "But seriously, the best place to tell a person you like them or whatever will be on neutral ground - like somewhere the both of you aren't too familiar with." He said, the playful tone in his voice fading into seriousness.

"Sounds like a plan."

Jon frowned, bemused. "What plan?"

Before Patrick could answer Jon's question, he caught a familiar figure just at the corner of his eye. Distracted, he turned to see who it was when he felt his heart collide his ribcage.

Across the hallway was Pete and Mikey, appearing to be caught up in a conversation.

Patrick was familiar with the feeling of his stomach twisting in envy when he saw the ease in the way the two boys interacted with each other, a privilege he couldn't afford but one Mikey could take for granted. He barely heard Jon talking as a buzzing in his ears had blocked out the noise of most of his surroundings. "Um, hey, there's something I gotta do right now so you can go on ahead if you want."

Mystified by the sudden change of behavior, Jon gave Patrick a confused frown but let the matter go. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow." He said but the strawberry blond boy was already wading through the crowd to get to the side where Pete was on.

Managing not to get trampled in the process though he earned a few annoyed protests, Patrick made it to where Pete was with Mikey Though he hadn't heard the whole conversation, Patrick had heard his lanky friend say, "Sure thing, Pete. I'd love to go."

Patrick could feel a sharp stab in his chest but forced his features not to reveal how he felt. Instead he smiled at the two of them, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "Hey Mikey." Patrick felt the need to greet his friend first before he turned to Pete, awkwardly. "Hi Pete."

Mikey waved at Patrick before he alternated glances between the strawberry blond and the dark-haired boy. "Hi there." Thinking they were about to discuss a family-related matter, the lanky boy excused himself and left Patrick and Pete alone together.

An awkward tension thickened in the air between the two boys who were now regarding each other carefully. Patrick's lips folded on each other while Pete watched him with a badly plastered-on neutral expression.

"Pete."

"Patrick."

Some part of Patrick couldn't help but jump at how the older boy hadn't called him by one of the ridiculous nicknames he'd grown fond of. The strawberry blond opened his mouth to speak the words he'd been planning to say when they died along the way out on his tongue. Biting back frustration, he offered a tight-lipped smile to Pete.

Amber eyes filled with concern were fixed on Patrick's features. Pete exhaled before smiling back in return. "What's up?" His voice cracked a little.

"Good." Patrick winced at his lie. "Not really but --"

"Yea ..."

"Listen." A new tone of urgency overtook Patrick's voice. "I wanna apologize for snapping at you the other day." He said hurriedly. "It wasn't very nice of me to ruin the good mood and all --"

"No, no, it's cool." Pete shook his head. "I get that I can be pushy and insensitive sometimes so that was a wakeup call for me --"

"But  _still_." Patrick frowned. "It wasn't right for me to get angry at you like that. I could have told you nicely."

"Well, you can't control how you feel all the time anyway. Nobody's perfect." Pete said with a weak smile. The words left a bigger effect on Patrick's thoughts than Pete would have intended and known. He was oblivious to the fact that the reason why Patrick had drawn his eyes nervously away from his gaze right now was that it made the younger boy feel like some part of his secret had escaped into plain sight.

Patrick couldn't even respond right to what Pete had said but threw in a nod just to make it seem like he was agreeing when in reality he was frantically backpedaling in his mind to see whether he had somehow revealed his feelings for Pete somewhere during the day. When he was certain he didn't, he looked back to Pete.

Hearing Jon's advice echoing in his head, Patrick decided it probably wouldn't hurt too much to follow what his best friend had told him. His mind made a quick run down of a hastily thought-up list of places they could go yet only one place - it wasn't exactly neutral ground but it was all Patrick could agree with himself on. Clearing his throat, he began in a nervous tone, "So, are you free this afternoon at four? I was thinking we could go to the ice-cream parlor."

Pete tucked his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the lockers with a thoughtful look on his face. "Um ..." His eyes slid to the ground.

 _Please say you can make it_. Patrick had his fingers crossed behind his back and his lips pressed together tightly in anticipation.

"I guess --" Pete broke off. "Yea. Definitely." He corrected himself, apparently changing his mind. The corners of his lips curved upwards, not all the way to his eyes but at least it was something that made Patrick's insides feel less like they were wound tightly over and over again.

"Cool." Patrick nodded curtly. "I'll see you then?" He was about to turn away but the rest of his body refused to move away from Pete, not unless he heard any form of response.

The stiffness in Pete's shoulders had left completely and now his eyes were twinkling with the look of fondness and amusement that was reserved for Patrick only. "Of course, Sophomore Stump."

*

As Joe was busy today, Patrick had taken the initiative to drive himself to the place where he and Pete had agreed to meet up. He had just parked his car just down the street where the ice-cream parlor was located. Killing off the engine, Patrick sat in silence for a few moments, hearing nothing but his pulse and his breaths. He was aware of how nervous he was.

Inhaling, Patrick reached for his backpack sitting at the front passenger's seat. Pulling it up to his lap, he dug around the contents until he found the textbook he was looking for. With his lips pressed together, he flipped through the pages with a focused frown on his face.

Finally, he found what he was looking for; not the paragraphs he'd highlighted for further study of the syllabus but the Polaroids of Lewis he'd been looking through before dinner that Saturday - he could remember how his heart rate had spiked when Patricia entered his room and he had to shove them all in the textbook to hide them. Patrick had been making his mind up about ridding them but he hadn't gotten around it until now.

Regarding the pile in his hand, Patrick decided to look through them for a bit. Without fail, he cringed at how he used to act back then, allowing his resentment towards Lewis prevent him from getting to know the man better and not view him as some sort of ill-fitted replacement of David. He shook his head and held a photograph up. He was frowning at a particular shot of a shirtless Lewis when his eyes caught movement just around the edge of the Polaroid at the street.

The crease on his brow had deepened when his vision focused. The figure that was approaching was none other than the son of the man in the photograph Patrick was holding up. A sudden spike of fear surged in Patrick's veins and his hand shot away from view of the windscreen - he was gathering the pile of Polaroids quickly now before he stretched over. In his hasty efforts to open the glove compartment, his nails scratched along it, sending tingles up his arm.

" _Fuck_ _me_." Patrick hardly ever swore but when he did, it was always when he felt very stressed about a situation. A few of the photographs in his hand had somehow slipped and fluttered down - Patrick could only pray that they'd be out of view should Pete stop by his car and bend down to greet Patrick. Sweat from his fingers made some of the Polaroids stick to his skin. Frustratedly, he shook his hand in frantic efforts to get them off, which he succeeded but had accidentally banged his hand painfully.

Patrick swore once more before slamming the glove compartment shut only to see Pete coming closer to his car - ten feet now - when he forced his features into impassiveness.

As he had anticipated, Pete stopped by outside of Patrick's side of the car and bent down. Rolling down the power windows, Patrick wore a strained smile as he looked at Pete. "Sup." He greeted but cringed inwardly at his choice for a greeting.

The older boy grinned but didn't make fun of Patrick. "You coming down or what?" He asked.

Patrick nodded. "Uh, yea - just, uh, sorting out my CDs and stuff." He said quickly, hoping that Pete didn't possess the presence of mind of look past the younger boy and at the Polaroidd of Lewis that were sitting on the floor in view.

"Oh. Okay." Pete bit his lip. "Did you need any help?"

"Nah, it's fine." Patrick responded. "I was just gonna get out of my car."

Pete apologized under his breath and moved aside for the strawberry blond to exit the vehicle. Once Patrick had locked the car, he turned to face Pete whilst leaning back against his car. He was counting on the probability that Pete didn't develop the ability to read minds because, in Patrick's case, it would probably be messed up.

So Patrick offered a smile and so did Pete. Even though it was awkward, at least it was better than them both giving the other no acknowledgement.

"I'm in the mood for the cookies and cream flavor." Pete said as the two boys made their way to the ice-cream parlor.

"Yea?" A part of Patrick's mind was focused on what was going on around them while the rest of it was jumbled up with anxiousness that he would forget what he had planned to say and worries about what Pete's reaction would be when he confessed.

"Mhm." Pete opened the door for Patrick before following inside after him. They were greeted by the sight of various types of ice-cream at the display and each of them looked rather delicious. It was too bad Patrick's anxiety had suppressed his appetite.

Sarah, who had been attending to the customers the other day Patrick and Pete visited, was not present but in her place was a tall boy with a lanky stature. Patrick didn't know his name and neither did Pete but they didn't bother much to find out what his name was when they ordered their ice-cream because he seemed very quiet.

Afterwards, both boys chose the table by the window to have their ice-cream. Pete had ordered a bowl that had a large scoop of cookies and cream and an equally large scoop of mint chocolate, loaded with lots of toppings that even the attendant appeared dubious that Pete's choices of toppings went together. Patrick's serving was a single scoop of vanilla ice-cream, nothing more and nothing less.

"You sure you don't wanna try some of mine?" Pete asked as he ate his way through his serving.

Patrick shook his head, poking his spoon at his ice-cream distractedly. He could feel nervousness closing over his heart like a fist, squeezing tightly every time the organ contracted. His mouth had gone as dry as sawdust and he was convinced not even ice-cream could save him. His blue-eyed gaze raised to look at Pete then flickered downwards before going back up again. The words Patrick wanted to say were there, building up pressure as they crowded in his throat.

Putting his spoon down, he sat back and drew a deep breath. "Pete?" Patrick's voice was tremulous.

"Hmm?"

"There's something I have to tell you." The strawberry blond's hands were clasped tightly together and he had gone as white as a sheet.

Pete hadn't missed out the seriousness in Patrick's tone because he had looked up, his ice-cream no longer serving as a distraction. His amber eyes scanned Patrick's expression before when concern settled over his features. He sat up. "What is it?"

"Please don't freak out." Patrick's voice had gone shaky.

Alarmed, Pete reached out and placed his hands around Patrick's. He had no idea, not an inkling of what this meant to Patrick. "Hey, shh. It's fine." He assured, patting the younger boy's hands in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He was worried because Patrick was very pale and there was this distinct nervous energy around him. "What is it?"

"Promise me you won't freak out?" It was a childish thing to ask of Pete but Patrick needed something to hold on to so he didn't fall to pieces.

"I --" Pete nearly said no but with the way Patrick was holding himself, tense as a taut wire, he had to stop himself. Slowly, he nodded. "I'll try my best to.

"Okay." Patrick squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself a moment to register the feeling of the older boy's warm hands over his. Pete's palm felt rough but his touch was gentle and reassuring - that was the one thing that calmed him down a bit. He opened his eyes and looked at Pete now.

All Patrick could hear was the roar of blood in his ears and the distinct thumping of his heart in his chest.

"Pete, I have feelings for you."

Patrick felt like his being dissolved the moment he let the secret out. It was a liberating sensation as though he was a balloon whose string had been cut free and was now floating upwards into the expanse of blue sky above him.

But reality came crashing back down all too soon, yanking Patrick out of relishing the moment of being free from the burden of his secret.

Pete had removed his hands from Patrick's.


	37. 3.5

Utter shock and confusion was visible on Pete's features, appearing once he had processed what Patrick had told him. His hands, which were on Patrick's earlier, had moved inches away and were now resting in fists. The bewildered, wide-eyed stare he was giving the younger boy wasn't leaving his features. "Feelings how?"

Patrick's lips folded into a thin line. From Pete's reaction, he just wanted to shrink away into a ball. Though he'd been expecting an outburst, the reality that he got the reaction he'd been expecting crushed him. "Like --" His hands made random gestures, not for the purpose of explanation but more like he was frustrated that he was unable to find the words to answer the older boy's questions. "To put it bluntly, I have a crush on you." His voice shook.

"But you can't." Pete spoke barely above a whisper. He had gone very pale and looked dumbstruck.

Patrick's face flushed indignantly. "Is it because you and I are boys and --"

"Christ, Patrick! I'm  _not_  homophobic like Andrew or Leon." Pete snapped, raking fingers through his hair. "It's just ... we're brothers."

" _Soon-to-be_  stepbrothers." Patrick corrected irritably.

"Whatever." A deep frown rested on Pete's brow. "But you can't because - isn't that incest?"

"We haven't even had relations!" Patrick protested, growing more and more upset with Pete. "And it's not incest if we don't share the same blood. I looked it up." He crossed his arms and scowled.

Pete could barely even look at him. He was fiddling - no, tugging hard- at his bracelet. His pale lips were folded into line. He appeared to be deep in thought. "I'm sorry, Patrick. But whatever I did that gave you the idea that I was into you --"

"No, that's not what you did!" Patrick protested, aghast that Pete was putting the blame on himself for something that he had no control of.

"-- but I don't like you that way, okay?" The older boy finished his sentence. "I can't  _ever_  like you that way." He added.

A part of Patrick broke. The backs of his eyes began to sting but he willed himself not to cry by staring stubbornly at the poster of an ice-cream with some slogan beneath it to promote sales. He had anticipated the event that Pete would put him down this way but he didn't know if he would learn to accept it. What was he hoping anyway? Pete to suddenly burst into song and then tell Patrick that he reciprocated his feelings?

The strawberry blond drew his gaze away from Pete's stiff, amber-eyed one to his hands on the table which were still clasped together. On his pale skin were angry red crescent moon marks where his nails had dug in earlier out of anxiety and fear. "I understand." He said. With a tense nod, he slid out of the booth and left.

*

Patrick had hoped his confession wouldn't change anything in his friendship with Pete but that was only wishful thinking. He didn't see much of Pete the next day and neither did his chances improve the following day, save for brief glimpses across the hallway with his friends.

Patrick knew he could've texted Pete or done anything but the thought of how the older boy had recoiled from him made his resolve dissipate. He had tried a few times but all attempts had ended with him staring at the last reply Pete had given him and the huge chunk of unsent text. In the end, he decided, "Right, if Pete wants to talk about it, he'll look for me."

Sadly, this went on for a few days.

It was later that week on a Friday afternoon that Pete finally talked to Patrick. The strawberry blond boy was sitting at the bleachers of the field, his feet propped up on the seat in front of him as he reread the notes for a test he was studying the night before. Jon and Mikey weren't there with him; Jon had to visit his grandmother at the hospital today and Mikey was probably off to have a meeting with a not-so-secret club formed by a group of diehard sci-fi geeks.

Patrick's books were spread around him so when Pete spotted him and went up the bleachers out of the younger boy's sight, Pete's features creased at seeing so many books. He was making his way towards Patrick, who hadn't so much as heard Pete as his ears were obscured by a pair of headphones.

Over the past few days, Pete had realized it was a dick move to be avoiding Patrick simply because the boy had a crush on him. Sure, it was awkward for him to hear it from the strawberry blond's mouth admitting that he liked Pete. His dramatic reaction was a waste of time; judging from the way Patrick had left without a word and not made any attempts Pete knew of to reach out, he was certain he had wounded the boy's feelings. And yes, Pete was selfish for not realizing that right after because he was only worried about how complicated everything would be from now onwards instead of how he had hurt Patrick.

So here he was, after days of keeping his distance, Pete picked up the pile of textbooks that sat beside Patrick and parked his ass on the spot.

Patrick had been so engrossed in remembering the necessary facts, he didn't realize Pete was right there until he, still focused on his notes, reached to take his textbook without looking only to find that his hand was grabbed onto the hem of someone's jacket. He jumped in fright, whipping his head up and saw Pete. Too surprised to speak, Patrick stared at him.

A small upwards curve formed on the dark-haired boy's lips. "Hey." His voice was soft.

Belatedly, Patrick realized Pete was actually talking to him and wasn't a figment of his imagination. Drawing his eyes away before flickering back, the faintest tint of red appeared on his cheeks. "Pete. Hi." He sounded breathless.

Pete held out the textbook he assumed Patrick had been reaching for earlier. "Are you for a test or is this just revision?"

"It's a test." Patrick answered, accepting the textbook from Pete. In the process, the tips of their fingers brushed against each other's in the briefest of moment; he could've his heart had a mini-death from the contact. His attention could no longer be focused on studying - it was all on Pete now as he placed his textbook on his lap instead of opening it. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Well, good luck for the test." Pete said. He lapsed into silence, picking away at a stray thread sticking out from the end of his tie. "Listen, Patrick. I just wanna talk."

Patrick felt his insides contract but managed to keep a straight face. "Oh. Okay, sure."

Pete looked at Patrick. "I'm sorry I was being dramatic when you confessed." He began.

"Pete, it's fine --"

"No, it's  _not_." The dark-haired boy hadn't intended to raise his voice but he was really anxious that it did pitch slightly in volume. "I hurt your feelings, Patrick, and that's not fine." He pointed out. "I thought about the way I said about how I don't and I can't like you back and I realized that was really the worst thing I could say at that moment. I mean, you were probably scared shitless to tell me the truth and I can only imagine hoe my words hurt you. And I wanna apologize for that."

Patrick didn't know the right thing to say in response to the apology.

"Say something." Pete's voice quavered at the end.

"I don't know what to say."

"Oh."

Patrick bit his lip. "You don't think I'm weird for liking you?

Pete did his best not to wince, hearing how insecure the younger boy could sound. His features wore a mask of concern. "Well, no. You can't control how you feel." He exhaled softly. "But I'm sorry."

"I know." Patrick's finger played with the edge of his textbook's cover.

"Hey." Pete shifted in his seat to look at Patrick. His amber eyes regarded the boy with concern as he reached out to touch Patrick's shoulder. "Do you need a hug?"

Taken aback, Patrick frowned at him. "Why on earth did you ask me that?" He asked in bewilderment, wondering if this was some sort of game for Pete.

The older boy shook his head. "It's just ... I want to make you feel better - and to make up for how shitty I was being." He said.

"Um." Patrick hesitated before he sighed and nodded. For the doubt he had, it was a surprise that he was the one who leaned into the hug Pete gave him. He was a bit shy at first but then he wrapped his arms around the older boy and felt the tension within him begin to uncoil. The hug was nice but the fact that Pete was holding him made everything feel better. Patrick shut his eyes and angled himself so he could find a better way to fit into the hug when he felt something slip from his lap.

There was a dull thud, which startled Pete. "What was that?" He asked, letting go of the younger boy to see what it was.

"My textbook." Patrick was moving out of Pete's loosened hold to pick it up when his heart skipped sickeningly. Something that had slipped out of the pages of the textbook when it fell that was stuck between Patrick's shoe and the floor. It looked like a Polaroid but the part where the image was visible was facedown.

Patrick was too surprised that even his reaction to pick up the book was delayed. He wad about to tell Pete to leave it alone but Pete had slipped out of his seat and bent down to pick up the book. Everything suddenly felt like it was going in slow-motion and Patrick had never been so scared of what was about to happen next.

As Pete took the textbook, more photographs began to slip out from the pages onto the floor. "Shit." He cursed and set the textbook on the seat before gathering the photographs. Now, this wouldn't be a problem because most of them were facing down but unfortunately, one of them had fallen with its image facing up, and was uncovered when Pete's hand swept it and the others into a pile.

And, confirming Patrick's horror, Pete saw it.

"Uh, could you give that to me?" Patrick said hurriedly, praying Pete wouldn't recognize the man in the photograph.

The boy did what he was told but when he got a better look at the Polaroid that was facing up, his reaction was what killed Patrick off. "What --" Pete was confused at first. " _What the fuck?_ "

Panicking, Patrick had gotten down on his knees and was sweeping up the photographs. "Pete,  _please_  --" He tried to snatch the photograph out of Pete's hands, possibly rip it into half in the process, but Pete jerked his hand away; he was still staring at the picture with a look of outraged disbelief.

"Patrick, what the  _fuck_  are you playing at?" Pete's voice had risen into a shout. A few students who were at the bleachers as well, for god knows what, glanced over in surprise before looking away.

"Pete --"

There was that utter look of betrayal and horror in Pete's eyes as he stared at Patrick, showing the photograph in his hand; it was a picture of Lewis from that day in the locker room, shirtless. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I can explain!" Patrick's voice caught desperately. "Pete, please just give me --"

"What kind of sick game are you playing at?" Pete demanded, suddenly sounding angry. His chest was rising and falling with each quick breaths. "You can't have my dad so now you're going after me?"

"No, that's not --!"

"Fuck, you're more messed up than I thought." Pete said, his tone nearing disgust. He flicked the photo in Patrick's direction, shaking his head with revulsion, and walked away quickly.


	38. 3.6

Though some part of Patrick knew it was futile to reason with Pete right now, he couldn't stand the idea that the older boy would leave with the idea that Patrick had a thing for Lewis. It was dangerous and he could break a bone or two should he tumble but Patrick was tearing down the rows of the bleachers. He didn't care that he nearly barreled into a few people.

Pete may have gotten a head start but Patrick found him making his way towards the science block. "Pete!" The strawberry blond called out with what air was left in his lungs.

Pete whirled around at the sound of his name, saw Patrick, when an expression of revulsion showed on his features. "Patrick, no!" Despite how he appeared not to want Patrick following after him, he stopped in his tracks. "Just -- leave me alone!"

"Listen to me!" Patrick snapped, not caring about how harsh he sounded. He caught up with the older boy. "Let me  _explain_."

"The pictures can explain themselves." Pete sneered. "What were you doing with my dad's photos? What were  _they_  doing tucked in the pages your textbook?" He demanded.

Patrick went red in the face. If there was a way to put Pete in his head and allow him to see the reason Patrick was struggling to explain, he'd do it in a heartbeat and over and over again until the older boy understood. Sadly, there wasn't and Patrick had to make do with saying it out loud; hopefully his mouth could keep up with the thoughts running around in his head."I was thinking of getting rid of them but I kinda forgot --"

" _Kinda_  forgot?" Pete echoed cynically.

"I only kept them because I --" Patrick stopped in midsentence, having caught up with his thoughts. His face went red. " _Because_  I wanted to compare them to my dad's." Before Pete could open his mouth to speak, Patrick continued, albeit an anxious and desperate tone taking over his voice. "At that time I didn't like the idea of her being in love with another man. It just felt like she was replacing Dad. And Lewis - well - Mom talked about Lewis like she forgot about Dad and I hated it.

"I was being stupid and immature about it but I thought maybe something about Lewis' appearance reminded her of Dad so I ... I took his pictures." By saying this aloud, Patrick was sharply aware of how perverse his words, and his past actions, made him sound. Maybe he didn't need Pete to see it from his view but  _it_  was him who needed to see his side from a different, impartial view; hell, he couldn't even imagine what it'd be like to see it from Pete's standpoint.

Patrick raised his gaze to Pete's, feeling everything inside him contract into this large lump in his body. He wanted Pete to listen and he got his wish granted but the outcome of this information dump was Pete staring at him like the boy didn't even know him at all.

Pete's amber-eyed gaze had gone from being full of contempt to looking like he had detached from perceiving Patrick as the person whom he'd started considering as a familiar. "This is too much for me to handle in a week, much less a day." Pete shook his head. Though his voice carried less poison than it did earlier, it nearly sounded lifeless. "First you tell me you like me, and now  _this_." He stared at Patrick, eyes narrowing into a frown like he didn't know what was or wasn't anymore.

"You weren't supposed to find this out." Patrick spoke barely above a whisper. "And, for the record, I have never harbored any sort of feelings for your father." He added.

Pete gave this sort of laugh that sounded too abrupt for Patrick's ears. "Yeah. Nope. This - like I said, this is  _too_  much for one day." He took a step away from Patrick, not knowing that his action tore a large rift in the space where Patrick's heart lived. He was looking at the younger boy like he wasn't really there, a mirage, and shook his head. He had his lips pressed together and tension was visible in his squared shoulders. If he had anything to say, he didn't allow himself to speak.

Pete turned and left.

*

Your closest friends were supposed to be the people you'd lean your shoulder on when the weight of everything became too much to bear.

To Patrick, that included a very short list of people. The three people who've been on that list for the longest was his father, his mother and his butler. Patrick needed support but none of them could offer that because he didn't want them to think he was some kind of sick freak who couldn't get over the fact that his mother was in a happier place now than she was back then and that he had to take photographs of the man his mother was with - against the man's consent.

At that time, Patrick really wasn't thinking but now that he thought of it, he realized that doing what he did was a huge invasion of privacy and if Lewis ever found out, everything would he ruined.

Back to that short list again.

Patrick could share his troubles with Mikey, but his geeky friend was out of question. One thing's for certain that Patrick suspected that he was starting to show interest in Pete. Imagine how disastrous that would be if Patrick revealed his situation with Pete - that would be the equivalent of resting a blade, point down on a balloon.

Jon was an option too but Patrick was less enthusiastic about this. For one, Jon was relatively new as a friend, as Patrick had gotten to know him better since last year so that was out of question. Besides, even if they were best friends, Jon's got his own things to worry about.

However, Patrick decided to contact the person who wasn't on the list of people Patrick would gladly allow to place a gun to his head.

It took a few tries but at the fourth attempt did the person pick up the call.

" _This better be important_." Hilary's voice said from the other side of the line. " _I'm in the middle of tutoring some kid right now so you have thirty seconds. Go._ "

Patrick wasted precious time by being dumbfounded because he didn't expect her to answer but by the time he regained his composure, about seven seconds had passed. Realizing this, Patrick began to panic. "Well - I messed up. I mean I think I did. I - oh, god, where do I even start? Like ... I was --"

" _Ten seconds_."

Patrick had called Hilary and hoped she'd be in a generous mood because he needed support or any form of kindness to put his mind at ease but the way Hilary had answered the call and put him on a time limit to explain himself was rude. Not to mention the effort itself was a lot for Patrick as he considered it a dangerous move to contact anyone who was directly related to Pete. He scowled. "Well, if you didn't want to pick up my call in the first place, why bother answering?"

Silence replied him from the other end of the tone.

" _Gosh, you sound like Pete when you talk like that_." That comment, though it seemed like the most lighthearted tone he'd ever heard from Hilary, caused Patrick to feel pinpricks of pain in his chest. His lips remained pressed to each other while Hilary continued in a more serious tone, " _Alright, what happened?_ "

Patrick's grip on his phone tightened slightly. There was a tiny voice at the back of his head arguing that this would probably be a bad idea because if Pete had recoiled from him when he saw the photographs, what's to say that Hilary would react the same, if not worse, way? Pushing that further into his mind to silence its protests, Patrick told her a badly summarized version of what he initially thought of Lewis being with Patricia, what drove him to think that his mother was with her father because Lewis seemed like a close enough replacement for his father and how he'd taken Polaroids of Lewis in the men's locker room of the country club. From there, he went on about how Pete had reacted when the boy saw the photos and Patrick was talking really fast the whole time, he was winded by the time he was finished.

Patrick was aware of how quiet Hilary gotten from the lack of response from the other end of the line when all he could hear was his pulse beating in his ears and his heart slamming in his chest. He began to bite his lip nervously, not caring that he'd done so earlier so many times that sinking his teeth into the fragile skin brought the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. When the silence became too much to bear, only a mere five seconds, he began to speak hurriedly, the pitch of his voice going higher. "Never mind, I shouldn't have called you --"

" _Patrick, stop. Let me - at least process this_." Hilary said sharply. He heard her draw a breath, and someone's questioning tone in the background. " _Wow, okay_."

"Look, I understand if you think I'm some sort of perverted freak --"

" _I don't_." Hilary cut him short, sounding irritable. " _Just, let me_  think,  _okay? I only to listened you to understand you, not to reply to you. And if you think, for one second, that I have anything to say, you're wrong. Sheesh, calm down_."

But the thing was Patrick couldn't. He decided not to say anything about that.

" _I really don't know what to say._ " Hilary admitted. " _Where are you now?_ " She asked.

Patrick glanced out the window of his room, down at the garden that was recently tended to by the gardener. "Home." He answered.

Hilary hung up on him.

*

Patrick had always thought Pete was the impulsive one in the Wentz family. He didn't think Hilary shared the same trait although he really should've considered that as both Wentz siblings shared the same blood.

The youngest Wentz sibling showed up fifteen minutes later at his home, her arrival announced by Joe. When Patrick went down to the parlor to see her, Hilary was examining the family photographs arranged on the mantel with critical interest.

Some part of Patrick found this sight foreign and unwelcome because why would she be interested in looking at a pictures of his family? He didn't dare to approach the girl. Even if she had made it clear that she didn't dislike him anymore, her presence still intimidated Patrick a little. She looked too much like Pete, except she exuded an aloof and distant aura about her. Whatever Patrick had running in his mind about her at the moment, she glanced at him like she could hear his thoughts.

"I'm not here to steal your things, Patrick. You can stop staring at me like that." She set the photograph she'd been examining - a picture of an infant Patrick and his beaming parents - back to where it belonged. She swiveled on her heel and tossed her backpack on the armchair that sat by the fireplace. Crossing her arms, she arched her eyebrow at the strawberry blond boy who hadn't moved so much as an inch since she spoken. "So, where are the pictures?"

Patrick's lips folded together into a line as he put his hand in his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out the Polaroids of Lewis. He had gathered them all after his call with Hilary and made sure there were no more of these lying around. Some of them were folded and creased while other looked relatively unharmed from being shoved in his pocket. Heart leaping up to his throat, he walked towards Hilary whilst holding out the photos. It took him a lot of effort because it felt like he was walking through Jell-O.

Hilary arched an eyebrow as she looked down at Patrick's hand but said nothing as she took the photos and looked through them. The boy watched her, biting his lip, as he searched her expression anxiously for any expressions similar to that Pete had shown.

Hilary's expression was unreadable, nearly impassive, as she went through each Polaroid. Nothing about her eyes, nor lines of her mouth, had given a clue about what she thought. Once she reached the last photo, she looked up at Patrick. She didn't say anything for the longest time and it didn't help that her amber-eyed gaze, so much like Pete's, felt like they were burning holes into Patrick.

Then she reached out to Patrick's hand, holding it up before she placed the Polaroids in his hand. The boy stared at her in mute astonishment.

"I'm not okay with what you did." Hilary's voice was calm. "But you know this isn't the right thing, correct?"

Patrick nodded, looking back at the photos. He was ashamed that he had to ruin impressions of him on two people in a day.

"Well, now that you've learned your mistake ..." The dark-haired girl regarded Patrick. "You said something about getting rid of these photos, right?"

"Um. Yeah, why?"

"Let's do it then."

Patrick wasn't certain what drove him to agree with Hilary but he found himself outside later, using Hilary's Zippo to set fire to the Polaroids. He watched as flames ate away at the photograph, turning it from a glowimg orange and yellow to black.

The ashes were blowing away in the wind.


	39. 3.7

After setting fire to the polaroids of Lewis, Patrick felt a little better that he finally did what he should've done sooner. He found the process somewhat therapeutic and relaxing to an extent, even with the smell of smoke lingering in the air and the heat of the flames.

Hilary stood a little away from him, watching the embers of the photos die in the wind with an impassive expression. She chose to stand a little away from him, as if she simply wanted to witness this event but not participate with it. It didn't bother Patrick one bit. Once he was finished burning the photos, she patted his back lightly with a nod. When Patrick gave her the lighter back, she didn't say anything but he now found her silence strangely reassuring.

They went back inside, smelling faintly of smoke. At first when they crossed the threshold on their way into the kitchen from the back door, Patrick hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should tell Hilary to return home or let her stay a bit longer. The former choice was definitely gonna sound ungrateful and rude while the latter would give opportunities for awkwardness to pop up.

Fortunately, he didn't have to decide what to do himself because Hilary turned to look at him and said, "I hope you don't mind if I stick around for a bit."

"Not at all."

"Great." As if she was the one who lived in the Stump mansion, Hilary proceeded towards the parlor with Patrick behind her. The boy had no idea what to do so he sat at the sofa, keeping his distance away from Hilary while she produced some papers from her bag. As he had suspected, the first few minutes were uncomfortably awkward as Patrick didn't know how to start a conversation with Hilary, who seemed to be busy studying.

Afterwards, Patrick went to make some peanut butter sandwiches before returning to the parlor. While he was raiding the kitchen, he had time to think about ways to start a conversation with Hilary in efforts to know her better but when he set the tray with a plate of sandwiches and some water for both of them on the low table in front of the sofa she sat on, he forgot what he wanted say. "I brought us some snacks." He said instead and Hilary glanced up from her notes.

"Oh, thank you." Hilary set her notes down and looked at the food. "You didn't have to but that's nice."

"Anytime." Patrick took a sandwich, biting into it. "What are you studying?"

"Just memorizing some formulas." Hilary answered.

"Need any help?"

Patrick thought he saw a flash of stubbornness on Hilary's features when she nodded hesitantly. Holding her sandwich in between her mouth, she took a bunch of papers from her bag and showed it to Patrick. "I can't seem to get the answers quite right. They're usually a few significant figures off - either that, or I end up using the wrong formulas to solve the problems."

Patrick perused her working, slightly jealous that it looked so neat whereas he had a tendency to cancel and scrawl at times. "Oh, I had the same problem back when I learned this topic. Anyway, let me show you where you went wrong." Patrick circled the key points of a question he picked and began to explain where Hilary had made errors. When he was certain she understood, he let her work the problems out by herself before asking, "Do your brothers help you out with homework?"

Hilary's fingers that were punching numbers on her calculator stopped. She looked at Patrick. "If they did, I probably wouldn't be struggling to understand how to apply the formula to these questions." She answered, tone uninflected.

A part of Patrick was astonished, as he thought that having older siblings meant you'd have a better chance at doing homework because they themselves have done something similar before, while the other part of him had been expecting this response out of her, as she didn't seem close to neither Andrew nor Pete. "Oh." He responded, pressing his lips together.

Hilary shook her head. "Pete's awful at math and Andrew's a self-important jerk so he doesn't want to help out unless there's something in it for him." She explained with a sigh. "I'd ask Dad but he's always busy with work and stuff and when I do get a chance to ask him, he's usually tired from work and like, you can't count on a tired person to do things because they need rest."

"How about your friends?"

Hilary stiffened. "I ... don't have friends." She replied hesitantly.

Patrick could only stare at her with a mix of shock and disbelief on his features.

"I mean I  _did_  have friends but they were toxic so I cut them off when I realized they weren't good for me. Anyway, I'm better off without them." Hilary said firmly.

"Well," Patrick began hesitantly. "I'm your friend, am I not?"

A frown found its way onto Hilary's features. "Jeez, don't be such a sap, Patrick." She scoffed but Patrick saw a tiny smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "But thank you." She added.

"You're welcome."

Hilary nodded, twirling her pencil thoughtfully. She placed her papers back in her bag before pulling her notes onto her lap. But she didn't read them over instead was looking over at Patrick. "I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question." She paused, making a face. "Actually, it might turn out to be a  _few_  questions but if you don't feel like talking then it's fine."

"I don't mind. Go ahead." Patrick encouraged in hopes that she would talk about something that would bring his participation and start a conversation. It would be a welcome distraction so that silence wouldn't tempt his brain to replay what had happened earlier today.

"When did you realize that you liked Pete?" Hilary inquired. "Y'know, just so I can understand your case better and help ease the tension between you and Pete." She added when Patrick blanched.

"Oh." His lips folded into a thin line as he dropped his gaze to his hands resting as fists on his thighs. "You don't have to do that. I can sort things out by myself." His voice was tremulous. Mostly, he felt bad because he thought Hilary pitied him in some way but at the same time he wanted to let her help him because he knew that if anyone knew how to talk to Pete, it would be his family members - Hilary, for this matter.

"Patrick, I may be stupid sometimes but I wasn't born yesterday. And you wouldn't have called me to talk about my brother earlier if you didn't need help."

"Okay, fine. You win." Patrick sighed. "It was the night when we watched the meteor showers. Y'know, the last night I was staying with your family and all because of Mom."

"Clever. Andrew, Leon and his gang kinda trashed the game room and got high out of their minds there." Hilary said and Patrick gave her this look of horror she ignored. "Go on." She urged as if she hadn't revealed any disruptive behavior from her eldest brother and hid friends.

"Okay, but drugs are bad."

"Do you think they care?"

"Not really, I guess?"

"There you go. As you were saying?" Hilary regarded Patrick expectantly.

Patrick frowned, trying to remember where he left off. "While we were waiting for the meteor shower we talked about stuff. And afterwards we were looking up at the sky, appreciating the meteor shower when I looked at him and I just  _knew_. Like everything that I felt, the feelings I questioned, it was just there in the form of Pete." He paused to assess Hilary's reaction. "You think this is cringey, don't you?" He inquired.

"Nope." She replied. "It's cringey  _and_  gross but nothing less from what I expected." She said, shrugging. "Have you ever considered taking time off hanging around Pete? Like, just keep your distance from him kind of stuff."

Patrick hesitated. "Sometimes. I mean, it's not like I have a choice now since I'm sure he hates me --"

"No, like voluntarily stay away from him." Hilary clarified. "And Pete doesn't hate you."

"Not " He said in response to her clarification. "And, I'm pretty sure he does." He argued, suddenly annoyed that Hilary would state such a thing.

"Look, Patrick, I know my brother. He can act like an impulsive idiot who jumps to assumptions because he thinks he knows it all when he doesn't and refuses to listen to facts but I  _know_  he doesn't hate you."

"Yeah, did you update that opinion w couple of hours ago - after school?" Patrick shot back. "He thinks I like your dad!"

"I didn't miss that fact." Compared to his tone, Hilary's was calm and logical. "But if you really think he hates you, I'm here to vouch for otherwise. Think about it: Pete's reaction when you told him you liked him. At first he was all 'ew, gross. Get the fuck away from me,' then it took him a couple of days to come around. I can't guarantee it'll take the same amount of time for him to realize he was mistaken when he assumed you're into Dad but he will. For the meantime, I suggest you pick up a new hobby."

He stared at her incredulously. "You're telling me all this about Pete making the wrong judgment of a situation before he realizes he was wrong and then you tell me to find a new hobby?"

"Why not?" Hilary's amber eyes were shining defiantly. "At least it'll distract you from overthinking, plus it'll be healthier way of handling your emotions than sulking in your room - don't give me that look." She said sharply when Patrick continued staring at her with that dumbfounded expression. "Sports would be my first suggestion but since you play the piano, try playing it instead. Or I could teach you to play the violin again."

"You know, you're starting to scare me by being so rational about this whole thing." Patrick admitted.

"Well, enjoy it while it --" Hilary broke off when her phone began to rang. With a sigh, she checked the screen before rolling her eyes. "Goddamit, can't this guy take a hint?" She grumbled under her breath and hit the  _Reject Call_  option.

"Who was that?"

"Leon." Hilary's nose crinkled. "He's been trying to get into my pants since last week. Disgusting, because I heard he has crabs or something." She shuddered. "That, and he's warning me off from hanging around you."

"What?" Patrick wasn't surprised but at the same time he hadn't expected this either. "Why?" He asked.

"Didn't want me to catch the gay."

"Oh god."

"I know, right?" Hilary sighed before checking the time on her phone. "

"Also, why did you ask me if I have tried taking time off hanging around Pete?"

"Misplaced love and affection."

"What?"

"Since you've never had any older siblings before it's possible that you could be misunderstanding the difference between infatuation and love for a brother figure." Hilary explained. "Not that I'm dismissing your feelings or that I don't think it's valid but it's something you could think about if you want to."


	40. 3.8

Patrick didn't like the idea of staying away from Pete for a brief period of time. He also didn't like there was a slim possibility he was misplacing his feelings for Pete. But since he wasn't in the best state to make judgments, he had to trust Hilary on this.

He hadn't talked to Pete for a few days, owing to the fact that he avoided the hallways in school used by most students to get to classes so he was getting to lessons a bit late. He was also trying to avoid texting Pete, going to the extent of deleting their chats so he wouldn't look through what they had talked about and pine over the older boy.

Patrick decided to reconnect with his best friends, though Mikey was a challenge because he seemed to be infatuated with Pete lately. Every time Mikey mentioned about Pete, Patrick would zone out the conversation and pretend to be busy with his phone - he even tried playing music through his earbuds to block it out in case jealousy might creep into his mind and hide there, waiting to attack when it was silent enough for his thoughts to be heard.

Jon noticed his newly acquired habit but didn't point it out, instead, he tried to change the topic for Patrick's sake. He really didn't have to, since it did kinda annoy Mikey but Patrick appreciated the effort.

It seemed that Pete was also keeping his distance because Ryan had sent Patrick a few texts asking him if anything was up between them because Pete seemed moody these days. Patrick had to pretend that he knew nothing was up and said he would try to check on Pete when he had the chance.

It was on Friday, after nearly a week, did Patrick interact with Pete. It wasn't intentional.

Patrick had excused himself from his friends during lunch. The restroom nearest to the cafeteria was closed for maintenance - there had been an issue with plumbing, which caused some kind of flooding in there a couple of days ago - so he had to walk all the way to use the one at the science block.

No one was present so Patrick had the whole restroom to himself. Or so he thought when he was washing his hands at the sink and someone walked in.

"Oh, if it isn't the kid Pete's always looking after." Patrick froze immediately when he recognized the voice. To hide his shock, he quickly went back to washing the soap off his hands when he saw from the corner of his eye someone approaching him. Forcing his features to remain calm, Patrick shook his hands dry before turning to face a grinning Leon.

"Excuse me." Patrick's eyes moved away from Leon's to the ground as he tried to walk around the guy.

"Hey, where are you going?" His progress was halted when Leon moved the same time he did, obstructing Patrick's way out of the restroom. "I was just trying to make a conversation." From the tone of his voice, it was clear that it wasn't his real intention.

Patrick was seized with worry. He should've stood his ground but when Leon took a step forward, he backed up. He had gone slightly pale when Leon grinned at him. "Well, I don't want to talk." Patrick had meant for his tone to come out firm and clear but he had gotten really anxious when Leon drew closer to him, forcing him back to the wall, he sounded timid and fearful.

"That's not very nice of you." Leon remarked, visibly enjoying how he was intimidating Patrick. "Aren't you supposed to be the goody-two shoes to Pete's rebellious wild child?" He chuckled. "Have some more respect for your seniors, kid."

"Pete's not that kind of person anymore and I'm not a goody-two shoes." Patrick said before he could stop himself. "And I don't need to give you respect when you haven't done anything to earn it from me." He added, this time managing to speak firmly.

Leon's eyebrows arched in amusement but not before his eyes had flashed angrily - almost like he was expecting Patrick to be some sniveling coward who'd grovel at his feet. "Listen here, you little twat." He articulated every syllable, drawing closer to Patrick. "If you know what's good for you, you should watch your fucking mouth. Don't want your precious boy to hear what I'll be doing to you because --"

"I don't care." Patrick shot back when a muscle in Leon's face twitched. That should've been enough of a warning sign for Patrick to use every bit of his strength to fight his way past Leon but instead of doing so, he continued, "It doesn't fucking matter anyway. He's not my precious boy and neither am I to him. So if you wanna try and have a go at me, make sure it's something I care enough to --"

There was the sound of the door opening before someone said, "What the fuck?"

"Fuck off if you know what's good for you, Wentz." Leon said over his shoulder, apparently recognizing who the person was from his voice; Patrick's heart missed a beat. "Unless you wanna join me in educating your little twat on manners." Leon added.

Pete was staring at the two boys. His face nearly expressionless, except for his eyes; they were burning. "Don't call him that." His voice was carrying the undertone of warning. His fists were clenched at his sides.

"A little twat?"

"Are you seriously gonna do this?" Pete went on. "It's two against your fucking ass."

"Your twat's scared - look at him, he's shaking all over." Leon was laughing, grabbing Patrick by the hair and forcing his head to the wall. "You think this little pipsqueak can throw a punch?" Something in Patrick snapped and before Leon could continue ridiculing him, Patrick brought his foot down on Leon's.

Leon swore, hopping on one foot when Patrick pushed him as hard as he could, causing Leon to topple over into the corner. Detachedly, Patrick why he hadn't done this before and was amused by how easily he made Leon fall when Pete's voice broke into his thoughts, yelling, "Run!"

Every muscle in his body sprang at once. He tore past Pete, who joined him in heartbeat and ran down the deserted hallway, away from the restroom. They didn't even realized they'd been laughing like idiots until they reached the gardens where Biology students grew vegetables for their experiments. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Patrick was sucking in breaths to repay the oxygen debt incurred in his body. He was sweating and his muscles were burning. But the thrill dulled some of the pain, making it enjoyable.

Pete had moved to sit on the bench, his hands in his face. "Oh god, you actually punched him." Pete removed his hands to look at Patrick with newfound amazement and respect.

"I didn't punch him." Patrick said, straightening up from his bent position. "I stepped on his toes and pushed him." He was grinning.

Pete's eyes were shining with laughter. "Good job, Pattycakes."

Patrick's heart felt like it'd been wrenched out of his chest hearing Pete's endearment again; he didn't think Pete would ever call him by those silly names again and it hurt him thinking about that. But Pete did and Patrick didn't know how to feel about it. The huge grin on his face faltered, turning into a milder but sadder form of it. The gleam in his eyes dulled. He was giving Pete a tight-lipped smile, nodding his head.

"It's good to see you again, Pete." His voice was soft enough that anyone would have to listen carefully to hear the catch in his tone at the end of his sentence.

Pete was smiling. It wasn't the huge grin he wore but the kind that wasn't obvious on his lips rather his eyes. "You too, Patrick." He responded.

Patrick's gaze dropped to his feet as the things he wanted to say in that moment in that very spot swirled in his brain. He was biting his lip, thumbs smoothing over his fingers repeatedly. "I hope you're doing good." He smiled tremulously.

Pete nodded, now wearing the same awkward expression as Patrick was. "You too." Pete said. He stared at the younger boy for a few seconds before biting his lip. "I heard you and Hilary are getting along better now." He  said.

Patrick stiffened, looking at Pete warily. He couldn't be blamed for bracing himself for Pete to start nailing accusations that he was now trying to get into his sister's pants - it wouldn't be farfetched because it was exactly what he'd done when he saw the photos of his father. However, the accusations weren't thrown because Pete didn't have any.

"I think," Pete began carefully. "It's good that you're trying to get to know the family better instead of, y'know --" He trailed off, folding his lips into a thin line as if he didn't trust the next words he'd say.

But Patrick had an inkling of what Pete wanted to say so his eyes narrowed slightly with skepticism. "Um, okay." He responded. "Anyway, I'll just be off." He told Pete and began to turn on his heel.

Pete stared for a few moments before he got up from the bench. "Patrick?" He called, taking a couple of steps forward.

"Hm?" Patrick glanced over his shoulder. "What is it?"

Pete opened his mouth before he thought better of it. He shook his head, pushing his hands into his pocket with a sheepish smile. "I was just wondering if you're going to Gerard's party tomorrow night."

Patrick frowned, facing Pete now. "What party?" He inquired.

"Oh, I thought Mikey would've told you about it."

Patrick shook his head. "No. All he ever talks about is --" He stopped himself. "He never mentioned it."

Pete's eyebrows arched. "Well, okay. But are you going?" Patrick had to admit he was starting to sound a bit pushy repeating his question. Since Patrick had nothing to do that night, he was considering it though he didn't want to decide now.

"I'll think about it. Bye Pete." Without saying anymore, Patrick hurried off before he could entertain anymore questions.

*

"Just like that?" Hilary was giving him an incredulous stare once Patrick had finished recounting today's run-in with Pete. At first, Patrick thought she couldn't believe her brother was being so nice to him when she continued, "Leon just didn't throw threats at you?"

"Wait, what?" Patrick was confused. "You're only interested in me pushing Leon?"

"Yes. Jesus fucking Christ." Hilary's eyes were starting to crinkle with laughter as she shook her head, going back to pressing keys on the piano. "I thought he'd stoop lower to chase after you and Pete." She added with a laugh. Her and Patrick were in the music room of the Wentz residence that day after Patrick had helped her with homework. The reason why Patrick could talk freely about his interaction with Pete was because neither of her brothers were home.

Hilary had stopped playing her song, resting her fingers on the keys so they played the notes continuously before she lifted her hands away. "But if Pete's asking if you're going, then it just proves my point."

"What point?" Patrick moved to sit beside her on the bench and played a few notes.

"He doesn't hate you." Hilary stated. "He probably feels sorry for bursting at you. And he's looking forward to see you."

Patrick's heart skipped at her last sentence and he missed a note, causing the song he was playing to sound off-key. Wrinkling his nose, he rested his hands on his lap and looked at Hilary. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Excuse you, but you know I'm correct." Hilary stuck her tongue at him. Patrick was still conflicted whether he liked this version of Hilary or the aloof version of her he used to know; it was still kinda weird and it was taking him some time to get used to this side of her.

He sighed, folding his lips together. "I just don't want to get hurt again." He told her. "I mean, the one time I told him I liked him he freaked out. Then he came around and I thought he was starting to accept me when  _bam_! He gets pissed at me, thinking I like your dad." He sighed.

"I wonder what gave him that idea." Hilary mused, seemingly indifferent to how Patrick was feeling.

"Exactly." Patrick began playing another song, this one having a faster rhythm and a harsher sounding melody, which made Hilary smack his hands away because it disturbed her a little. "I don't want to get hit by something I don't expect."

"You know this is pretty ironic because you're expecting something to happen. And to be frank with you, stuff are more likely to go wrong."

"The universe doesn't work that way."

"Correct, but your mind does." Hilary argued. "Sometimes, situations aren't as a big deal as we make them to be. I know it's hard to push your brain away from thinking of the negativity but you know what?"

"What?" Patrick looked at her.

"I'll go with you to the party."

Patrick stared at Hilary.

Hilary scowled at him for not getting on the same level as she did and sighed in exasperation. "For moral support. To help get your head in the game. To be the buffer solution to regulate the pH."

"I don't know what you're talking about but I'll pretend that I do." Patrick told her yet he felt like the weight on his shoulders had been lifted enough for him to stretch and breathe. "But thanks, Hilary."

"No problemo, Stumperino."

"Don't ever talk to me again."

Hilary laughed.

*

Patrick would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling like he'd throw up any second on their way to the Wentz residence to pick Hilary up for the party. The conversation he had with his mother earlier was still on his mind - Patricia had gushed about how proud she was for Patrick making the effort to hang out with his future stepsiblings so it added to the anxiousness that was running in his veins. After managing to pry himself away from his mother's hug, he told her he'd be off.

Patrick decided to drive his car because he felt bad about the idea of making Joe wait for him and Hilary when he had better things to do. So there Patrick was, listening to a playlist from his iPod that was connected to his car's stereo system. It was one of the playlists Pete had made for him, in attempt to make him assimilate Pete's musical taste. However, this particular one he was listening to was the most effective in dispelling his nerves, owing to the fact that the songs in here were energetic and angsty.

He pulled up at the driveway of the Wentz residence before taking a moment to text Hilary about his arrival. As he changed his playlist to an 80s pop-esque one, he did a quick check to see if Pete's Mercedes was parked in the garage or something. Once he was certain that Pete wasn't home, he could breathe easier - he wasn't ready to have any awkward small talk with the older boy.

He was jerked out of his reverie when someone knocked on the car window at the passenger's side. He glanced to find Hilary staring expectantly at him and then unlocked the doors. She got in the car and buckled her seatbelt. They didn't say anything to each other for the first few seconds before she took one look at Patrick's iPod and said, "Seriously? Rick Astley?"

"Not in the mood for the 80s?" Patrick joked feebly. "We could play  _Earth, Wind and Fire_  if you want."

"Get out of the car."

Patrick laughed, before he drove out of the compound. He let Hilary fiddle with his iPod to play whatever songs she liked until they reached the neighborhood where Mikey lived. He had to park his car a little away from where Mikey lived because the street leading up to his friend's house was packed.

Patrick didn't have much experience when it came to attending house parties, his most recent one being the time when he attended a classmate's birthday party in elementary school. If he had any ideas about how house parties thrown by teenagers would look like, he had all imagined them to look like the ones people would see in high-school themes movies. So when him and Hilary walked towards the front door which had been left open for partygoers to enter and leave, Patrick was partly shocked that he was correct for imagining the hallways to be filled with people, either making out against the walls or drinking and laughing loudly.

"Is it too late to leave now?" Patrick asked Hilary, visibly perturbed by the sight he was greeted with. The music blasting from inside, combined with the sounds of many conversations taking place at once drowned his voice out so she didn't catch his question.

"In to the lion's den we go." Hilary said to Patrick, loud enough to be heard over the noise. Drawing a breath, she entered the house.

Patrick stared after her, took one glance at the partygoers, and braced himself. He crossed the threshold.


	41. 3.9

Patrick thought he had everything under control in his head the moment he entered the house. He was woefully wrong. He wasn't certain how he ended up getting shoved into the corner of the living room, which had then been turned into a makeshift dance floor, and was stuck between a person who was trying to sell him pills and a couple who were making out heavily against the wall. In the process, he'd lost Hilary and didn't know exactly where she was.

Feeling queasy, Patrick tried to squeeze his way back to the hallway through the swaying crowd of people dancing to the music. He tried to ignore the press of bodies all around him, the cloying scent of alcohol, sweat and perfume jabbing his nose all at once. Once he made his way out, he fled to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

Flipping the lid down, he sat on the toilet and pulled out his phone to call Hilary. She didn't pick up, all calls going straight to voicemail; she probably left her phone at home or her battery died. With an exasperated sigh, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and stood up. He turned on the faucet at the sink and let water run. Drawing a breath, he removed the fedora that sat on his head and proceeded to wash his face.

Once he was done washing, he turned the faucet off and stared at his reflection. He thought he looked anxious; wide-eyed, cheeks slightly flushed, and a worried purse of his lips. His hands gripped the edge of his sink as he drew his gaze away from the mirror. He wasn't even aware of how fast his heart was beating until he took deep breaths to gather his composure. Once he was certain he had gotten himself together, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his wine red cardigan and put his fedora back on.

He left the bathroom, keeping his head down as he tried to maneuver around people. Someone shouted at him, throwing a compliment about his hat over the noise but Patrick was too startled to accept the compliment. He found a way through the crowd to the kitchen - though it was considerably less crowded but there were so many unfamiliar faces Patrick decided it would probably be best if he stayed outside or something.

Shooing away a couple of kids smoking joints who were obstructing the back door, Patrick managed to make it outside to the porch. Drawing a huge breath of relief, he walked to the steps and sat down. Idly, he looked up to the night sky to find the moon and stars staring down at him. With his lower lip in between his teeth, he reached for his phone to see if Hilary had called or texted him back.

His screen was devoid of any notifications.

Sighing, he pocketed his phone and stared idly at the swing set under the tree at the edge of the yard. He spent about a couple of minutes by himself, doing nothing at all when he heard volume of noise from inside increase - someone must've opened the back door - before it decreased, followed by the sound of the door closing.

Patrick didn't turn to see who it was but when he heard footsteps approaching him, he looked up. And his heart constricted a little.

Though it was too dim to make out any particular features worth noting, Patrick could tell Pete was regarding him with an awkward kind of smile. "Hey." Pete said.

"Hi." Patrick responded before he scooted a few inches to make space for Pete to sit, even if there was already plenty for the older boy.

Pete sat down beside Patrick and didn't say anything for a few moments. "Some party, huh?" There was a faint trace of amusement in his tone.

Patrick shrugged. "Are you having fun?"

Pete's nose wrinkled. "Um, well ... kinda." He stretched his legs out. "Actually, no. It just reminded me too much of old habits so I decided to ditch." He let out a humorless laugh, which made Patrick's chest tighten with concern. "What about you? What's your story?"

"I came here with Hilary but I lost her." Patrick replied then glanced at Pete. "Before you get any ideas about me going after --"

"No, I'm not." Pete's hands were up in a gesture of surrender.  " _I swear_ , Patrick." He added when an dubious expression appeared on the younger boy's features.

"Just in case."

Pete drew his gaze away, looking embarrassed. He was silent for a few moments, drawing his thumb over his wrist repeatedly in a nervous gesture before he began to speak. "Patrick, I really regret, y'know, yelling at you the other day." He admitted.

" _You should be_." Patrick wanted to say, wanted to sound cold and unforgiving, to spurn Pete's apology and hurt him the way he had hurt Patrick. But he didn't because he wasn't that kind of person. Besides, if he did that it would only tear a larger rift between the two, which could complicate things between them further. So Patrick nothing.

"Hilary told me about it - about the whole thing you thinking Patricia loves my dad because he seems to be some sort of replacement." Pete went on, gradually sounding more and more anxious. "And I guess if I were you, I'd feel the same way because you were really close to your dad and all but --"

"What I did wasn't right." Patrick said. "I know. And you had every right to be mad at me."

"Yes, but  _I_  shouldn't have thought you were into my dad  _that_  way." Pete sighed. "I mean, it was stupid and irrational of me to think of that --"

"It is." Patrick agreed. "But my photos did kinda give that sort of impression." He bit his lip. "Y'know what? I guess we're both in the wrong here." He concluded. But Patrick felt the sin was weighed heavier on his side because if he had about accepted that his mother deserved to move on from his father, he wouldn't be in this mess.

Pete sighed, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry for hurting your feelings again. I don't mean to but I keep fucking up in so many ways. Don't you --" His voice caught. "Don't you ever get tired of having me around?" He asked, removing his hands from his face before facing Patrick.

Patrick stared at Pete. "Do you really want to know?" He asked.

Pete opened his mouth but thought better of what he wanted to say before closing it. For some uncanny reason, he knew what Patrick would answer yet he sought confirmation for it so it wouldn't be wishful thinking. Tugging absentmindedly on a loose thread at the seam of his jeans, Pete remained silent for a solid minute.

"I'm sorry I took your feelings for granted." He said. "You deserve ... someone better. I mean, not only as a future stepsibling but someone who feels the same way as you do about them." He said. "And that's not me."

Patrick looked at Pete. There was this dull ache throbbing in his chest, accompanying the sense of heaviness associated with knowing how the course of this conversation would go. "Y'know what they say." He laughed mirthlessly. "Better to have loved than to have never loved at all." He quoted.

Pete shook his head slightly. "You're too good to love me that way. I'm not worthy enough." A detached part of Patrick was relieved his excuse wasn't because they were future stepsiblings but rather because of their qualities, although it didn't make hearing those words from Pete hurt any less.

If Patrick had the right words, he'd say them so Pete would feel better. But he didn't, so he raised his hand and placed it on the older boy's knee. For the longest time, they didn't say anything but it was one of those moments when the silence was welcome. "Hey, Pete?" Patrick said.

"Hm?"

"I'm really curious but ... are you and Mikey dating or something?"

Pete laughed. "Did he say that?"

"He just talks about you a lot and stuff and you two have the chemistry and stuff --"

"Nah." Pete shook his head. "I dunno. He's cool to hang out with but ... it's kind of an awkward situation now."

Patrick raised an eyebrow at Pete with a dubious expression. He had a sneaking suspicion about the reason why Pete wasn't making any moves. "Don't let me hold you back." He told Pete.

"No, it's not that." Pete insisted. "Y'know what I said about me being impulsive? I don't wanna rush this and end up hurting people's feelings."

People's feelings, Patrick thought. Was Pete really taking his feelings into account before making the decision? He thought about all the times he'd seen Pete and Mikey hanging out together. Maybe he had learned a thing or two over time but the constricting feeling of jealousy that had seized him a few times back then was nonexistent now. And Pete did seem to enjoy Mikey's company and Mikey with Pete.

Patrick loved Pete; that was the simple truth. And he loved Pete enough to say this: "Look, I know you're thinking, 'Oh, I might hurt Patrick's feelings if I start going after his friend,' or whatever. But y'know what? I'd rather see you happy than hold yourself from experiencing the wonderful opportunity of dating my best friend -  _no_ , don't give me that look - so just go for it. Ask him out."

Despite Patrick telling Pete off, the older boy was staring at him with an expression of incredulity. "You sure you didn't try any of the drinks?" Pete asked.

"Yes." Patrick stood up before offering his hand. "Now let's go look for Mikey."

"Can't we wait till tomorrow or something? He might be drunk for all I know."

"I don't see what's stopping us from checking."

Pete looked at Patrick's outstretched hand, sighed, and took it. His hand was exactly the way Patrick had remembered; calloused fingertips, the firm grasp that softened but never loosened to let Patrick's hand fall away. "You drive a hard bargain, Fuzzy." Pete laughed though his voice was slightly uneven.

"You'll thank me for this one day." Patrick clapped Pete's shoulder and the two of them turned around. The moment they both took a step towards the door, it opened, revealing Hilary behind it. She took one look at both Patrick and Pete and rolled her eyes.

"You ditched me." She said.

Patrick shrugged apologetically. "But I kinda lost you in the crowd."

"Whatever." Hilary sighed before looking at her brother. "Y'know that one Way brother who looks like he's all limbs or something like that?"

Pete arched his eyebrows. "Uh, what about Mikey?"

"And your friend with the crazy look in his eyes?" Hilary asked when Pete blanched as if he knew exactly who she was talking about and was putting two and two together. "Whatever his name is, he's talking to Mikey --"

"Fucking shit, I'm gonna nail his balls to the wall --" Pete was swearing colorfully as he hurried inside, leaving Hilary hanging off in midsentence and Patrick staring after him in mild confusion.

Hilary chuckled, shaking her head. Her eyes were gleaming with amusement. Then she looked at Patrick and her smile faltered. "You okay there?" She inquired in concern.

Patrick's lips folded into a thin line. He was about to shake his head, shrug it off and maybe ask Hilary if they could ditch the party or something. But the backs of his eyes began to sting and there was a dull ache in his chest. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet so didn't answer Hilary's question.

She didn't press him, instead patted his shoulder and gave him an awkward one-arm hug. Patrick appreciated it, and after a second of hesitation, he rested his head on her shoulder. He didn't want to cry but his tears were mutinous, sliding out from under his eyelids and making damp spots on Hilary's shoulder. She didn't complain, instead drew back, reached into her pocket and offered him a handkerchief.

Patrick could've made some comment about how surprised he was that she was carrying one at all but at the moment he was overwhelmed so he accepted the handkerchief and wiped away his tears. They kept streaming out for awhile.

"Y'know what?" Hilary said once Patrick had calmed himself down. "I know exactly what we should do." She said. They had moved to sit where Pete and Patrick had sat earlier.

"What?" Patrick's voice was uneven but at least he was trying to keep his composure. He sniffed, wiping his face with the already damp handkerchief and blinked a few times. "What should we do?" He asked.

Hilary smiled. "Let's ditch the party and eat pizza or something." When Patrick didn't respond, she added, "It's my treat."

Patrick let out a small laugh.


	42. finale

"Wakey wakey." A finger prodded Patrick's side repeatedly, drawing him out of his sleep into wakefulness. "It's time to get up." The voice that had been speaking earlier continued in a gentle tone. Patrick let out a groan and smacked away the finger that was poking him and snuggled deeper into the sheets. He didn't want to be woken up just yet; he had a nice dream after all.

"Five more minutes." Patrick's voice was muffled.

"Dad said we're going to tour around the city."

"Pete, it's their honeymoon." Patrick sighed. After the wedding, Lewis and Patricia had thrown a vacation plan on their children so they could ostensibly spend their summer together as a family. He had no qualms going around Europe - they were currently in Barcelona and would be here for a couple of days - but he felt Patricia and Lewis deserved a break from him and the Wentz siblings.

"Can't we just let them act like a couple on a romantic holiday for once?" Patrick said. He opened his eyes to find Pete seated at the edge of the bed.

Pete was still dressed in his pjs and looked about nearly as ready for the day as Patrick was. His eyebrows were slightly arched. "It's not a honeymoon per se - I mean, they brought us here." He said, referring to himself, Patrick and Hilary. Andrew was supposed to come along but he had made other plans; at least Patrick's mood for this getaway wouldn't be spoiled by Andrew. "Technically," Pete continued. "It's a family holiday."

"They deserve space. To do couple things." Patrick said haltingly, glaring at Pete through squinted eyes. Why did he have to pull the drapes open and allow so much sunlight to stream into the room? That should be illegal in Barcelona.

"Okay whatever." Pete took his phone from his pocket and began to text. "I'll just tell Dad we're not going." He stated.

"Yes, you should do that." Patrick disappeared under the covers again. "Where's Hilary?" He asked.

"I think she's sleeping."

"Why didn't you bother her?"

"Her door is locked and she's not answering my calls." Pete sighed in exasperation. "And she has an awful temper within the first hour of waking up so no thanks. I'd rather wake up a sleeping dragon than my sister."

Patrick removed the sheets and sat up. His strawberry blond hair stuck up in every direction. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes before he looked out the window of the hotel room they shared to the beach. It was a beautiful view; the skies were blue, the sunlight shimmered off the ocean in the distance and there was bright spots of different colors from the gathering of umbrellas and people down at the beach.

"Do you wanna go down to the lobby for lunch or something?" Pete asked.

Patrick frowned before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. He hadn't realized he had slept longer than he would've liked. It was nearly noon and he har just realized how hungry he was. He looked at Pete before noticing something was amiss with the boy's expression. The corners of Patrick's lips curled upwards. "Why do I have a feeling that you're just using that as an excuse to get me out of bed so we can explore the city?" He inquired.

Pete looked like he was trying his best not to smile. "It's not like we come here everyday, right?" He said, arching an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a laugh then shook his head in amusement. Of course Pete would be eager to explore the area. And would Patrick complain about it? Not really. He wouldn't mind if he had to brave hours of wandering under the sweltering heat or getting himself lost. As long as he had Pete, and money in his pocket, he should survive fine for one day of adventure in Barcelona. "Whatever." He said and got out of bed.

There was that signature grin of Pete's on his face. "Barcelona, get ready for the Stump-Wentz brothers." He said excitedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes Polaroids, everyone!
> 
> A gigantic shout-out and a thousand hugs to everyone who took a little of their time to read this book. Even though there were times when I felt this book wasn't really great and I felt like unpublishing this a couple of times, y'all supported me and kept me motivated to continue - you da real MVPs.
> 
> Seriously, every time a book of mine comes to an end I have no idea how to express my gratitude.
> 
> But thank you to each and every one of you for reading!! 💞💞


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